The Maltese Herring

by L. C. Tyler

  ‘Please do,’ said Joyner. ‘I’ll be dining at the College for a while yet, Professor Cox. Maybe longer than you will be.’

  They set off together, with Iris and Elsie following just behind, but Fay flashed Joyner a final look of – what was it? Curiosity? Irritation? Warning? Whatever it was, she and Cox vanished into the trees together.

  Sly had also been observing the well with interest, but Polgreen seemed inclined to follow the others, and Sly did not wish that Polgreen and Iris should have the chance to talk alone, with the many opportunities that doubtless offered for subverting the committee rule book, as lately amended.

  That left just me and Joyner. I leant over the top of the well as far as I dared. One of the bricks that I was clutching moved slightly but did not actually come away. I noticed one or two others were already missing. I looked down. The well, in this half-light, seemed very deep and very green. Ferns grew out of the brickwork that lined the shaft, light green near the top, then dark green, then almost black, then invisible. Even without the trees blocking out most of the light, I doubted Dr Joyner would be able to discern much of interest. Of course, he had come prepared: he took his torch from a jacket pocket.

  ‘I said, don’t worry about me,’ said Joyner rather irritably. ‘Why don’t you catch the others up, Ethelred, and enjoy the garden?’

  ‘As you wish,’ I said.

  It was with some foreboding that I set off to join the others as they meandered through the main woodland area, still colourful with purple rhododendron flowers. When I looked back, Joyner was already hidden by the trees, presumably kneeling in the gloom by the vertiginous well shaft, making whatever observations he wished to make by torchlight.

  Iris treated us to a leisurely tour. There was a seventeenth-century ice house: a domed brick structure, half set into the ground and almost entirely covered in ivy. Its entrance was also protected by a strong iron grill against intruders.

  ‘My grandfather added that too,’ she said. ‘He was worried that somebody might harm themselves in there. You can see how the mortar is crumbling away. I need to get it all repaired. But everything costs so much money now. And there’s always something that needs doing at the main house. It’s the roof at the moment, but the gatehouse will need repointing before too long. We had a lot of work done fifteen years ago, but you never manage to do everything that needs fixing. You always have to stop somewhere. And, sooner or later, it all needs fixing again. The expense of maintaining these buildings is horrendous.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Sly, shaking his head sadly. He was rumoured to rent a small flat somewhere near Chichester, but that didn’t mean he had no idea what it cost to repoint a mediaeval tower.

  We were allowed to disperse and pursue our own interests: architectural, horticultural or idle curiosity. Everyone proceeded at their own speed, small groups forming and re-forming. I was sufficiently worried that I found myself constantly watching out for Joyner. For a moment I thought I saw his linen jacket in the distance, through the trees, then I lost sight of it again. Hurrying after him, I came out into some sort of sunken winter garden, on the far side of which Iris, in her white jacket, was in deep conversation with Sly. I was mildly annoyed at my mistake, but I was also curious to see how Sly got on – I was not optimistic for him. For some time they stood there, oblivious to my gaze: Sly, in his baggy shorts, speaking in an agitated manner; Iris, in her well-cut jacket, motionless. I could hear the faint buzz of their conversation but could not make out what they were saying. Finally, I saw Iris shake her head and walk away from him, towards the house. Sly stood rooted to the spot for some time, his fists clenching and unclenching, then he went after her. I quickly lost sight of him but, if he had a second attempt to lobby her, it was unlikely it would have been any more successful than the first.

  Later I noticed that Polgreen, Cox and Elsie had formed a little group together and were laughing at something. Then I saw Fay on her own, checking her phone. Worryingly, I did not see Joyner at all. After a while, by pure chance, I arrived back at the well. There was no sign of him there amongst the trees either, but perhaps that was not entirely surprising. He had long since finished his investigations and moved on.

  In due course, we each completed our tour of the garden and found ourselves back at the terrace one by one. Iris and I were the first to arrive. I gave her a sympathetic smile.

  ‘I noticed that Mr Sly cornered you,’ I said.

  ‘Yes,’ she said with feeling. ‘He had some ridiculous scheme for unseating Henry Polgreen as chair of the committee and getting himself elected in Henry’s place. Well, I set him right on that, I can tell you. “I trust Henry Polgreen completely,” I told him. “As for electing you in his place, Mr Sly, I don’t believe you hold any relevant academic qualifications, nor am I aware of other skills that might commend you to the committee.” He didn’t like that at all. He accused me of snobbery, which may not have been entirely unfair, then of being in league with Henry to steal property belonging to the Abbey, which was ridiculous. That was, however, the last straw. I gave him a proper dressing-down, I can tell you. He just stared at me open-mouthed. Well, there’s nothing he can do about it. Let him resign as secretary if he doesn’t like things as they are. We won’t miss him.’

  Her comment about Sly’s lack of academic qualifications echoed what Sly had said to Polgreen earlier about not having a degree. It was clearly a sore point with him and Iris would have known that. She seemed to be every bit as willing as Elsie to speak her mind.

  Later, Elsie returned alone, then Polgreen, then Cox and Fay together, strolling in a leisurely manner. Finally, Sly appeared. He sat down without saying anything to the rest of us. He looked very unhappy indeed. Perhaps he had finally realised that his ambitions to chair the committee, nurtured over many years, were out of his reach. For most of us there comes a day when we suddenly see ourselves as others see us, though with Elsie as my agent I was apparently contractually entitled to a running commentary. Iris called for tea. After a while, Pia appeared with a large tray. But there was still no sign of Joyner.

  ‘I’m slightly worried about your colleague,’ I said to Professor Cox.

  ‘I’m not,’ he said, selecting a yellow-iced cake from the plate. ‘I have lost sleep over many things, but never over Dr Hilary Joyner.’

  ‘I should have checked the well when I passed it on the way here.’

  ‘To what possible end?’

  ‘He might have fallen in.’

  ‘Then in due course somebody would have to retrieve him. Fortunately, the house now has mains water, so it would not be an urgent matter.’

  ‘He could be anywhere in the garden,’ said Iris. ‘We’ve no reason to believe he’s fallen into the well.’

  ‘I think we should go and look for him,’ I said.

  ‘Can’t I finish my tea first?’ asked Cox.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘You can’t.’

  We all set off again. Of course, what Iris had said was right. There were explanations for Joyner’s absence that had nothing to do with the well, but they worried me almost as much. It was a large garden and there were plenty of places where Joyner could have decided to lurk. It had occurred to me that the well was no more than a feint and that Joyner’s real purpose was to dig in some obscure part of the garden while we were all otherwise engaged. The longer his absence, the more likely that became. I remembered he had had a rucksack back at the Abbey, though I had no idea what could possibly be in it. I was now concerned that it might contain a trowel, or even (at a pinch) a lightweight metal detector. If that was his plan, I wished to stop him. Iris might forgive me for arriving early, but it would be some time before she forgot that I had introduced an uncontrolled archaeologist to the house.

  As I searched behind bushes and trees, I could hear calls from other, more distant parts of the estate. That Joyner was unaware we were looking for him was very unlikely. Once we had given him more than enough time to refill a hole and conceal his trowel, his failure t
o appear looked more ominous. My thoughts returned to where we had last seen him.

  I was not the only one. By the time I arrived almost everybody was already at the spot – or at least a few cautious yards away.

  ‘Have you checked the well, Ethelred?’ asked Henry Polgreen, motioning towards the trees.

  ‘No,’ I said.

  ‘Nor have I,’ he replied.

  ‘How about you?’ I asked Cox.

  ‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘I’d assumed one of you had gone there first. I thought it would be more useful if I looked elsewhere.’

  ‘So, which of us is going to check the well?’ I said. ‘I mean actually go over and look down it.’

  ‘Be my guest,’ said Cox.

  ‘It’s fairly dark under the trees – it will be tricky to see all the way to the bottom,’ I said.

  ‘I’ve already fetched a torch from the house,’ said Iris. She gave me a pat on the arm.

  As I stepped into the grove, I had to pause. Coming out of the strong sunlight into the shadows, it took a moment or two for my eyes to adjust, and I didn’t want to fall into the well myself. Just for a moment, I could see almost nothing, then the well and the surrounding vegetation started to take shape. I advanced on the low red wall, and I knelt beside it. I was worried to see that some bricks at the top had been freshly dislodged – definitely more than when I’d last looked. There were some loose lumps of mortar on the ground. I peered cautiously inside. All I could make out in the damp green depths was one circular course of bricks after another, fading into the blackness. Then, with some trepidation I took Iris’s torch and directed the strong beam downwards, trying to get some light on the very bottom. The shape I saw was indistinct, but there was clearly something that didn’t quite belong there. It floated, sort of doubled up, face down, and it did not move.

  I stood up and quickly retraced my steps.

  ‘I’m sorry, Iris. We’re going to need to call the police. And probably the fire brigade to retrieve the body. I think it’s much too late to call an ambulance.’

  She looked at me, her face white. ‘Oh God,’ she said. ‘It’s just like last time.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  Ethelred

  ‘So, then you discovered the body?’ asked Joe.

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  The police were using two of the many rooms in Iris’s house in order to take statements from us. This one was panelled in a pale-coloured wood and contained faded but very comfortable sofas. The curtains were a William Morris pattern, originally chocolate brown, now distinctly milk chocolate, with flashes of faded green and red. It was like being taken back forty or fifty years – which was quite possibly when the room had last been decorated. I knew Joe, the policeman interviewing me, very well – I had consulted him many times on police procedure for my books and very occasionally I had been able to proffer advice on some real cases. In terms of who owed whom any favours, he had a lot of credit remaining. This time, as one of a number of witnesses, I felt that I didn’t have much to offer him in his official investigation into the death of an Oxford don in deepest Sussex.

  I’d volunteered to be one of the last to give a statement to the police. Professor Cox and Fay Tomlinson had pleaded a need to return to Oxford as soon as possible. Sly had, he said, important council business, wherever it was he was a councillor. Polgreen claimed a social engagement that his wife had imposed on him with more than usual cunning. I’d strolled round the garden while I waited my turn, avoiding the now-cordoned-off well, where the forensic team was still at work under floodlights.

  I’d already described to Joe, as best I could, the events leading up to Joyner’s death. Joe knew what had followed – the arrival of all three emergency services, the recovery of the body, the sealing off and searching of a potential crime scene. We now knew that Joyner had fallen into the well, then struck his head somehow on the brickwork as he plummeted into the icy water at the bottom. Or been struck on the head and then fallen, of course. One or the other. The pathologists might be able to tell us which in due course.

  ‘He was a close friend?’

  ‘Not at all. He was one of the tutors when I was at university. I’d had no contact with him for years – then we met again at a dinner.’

  ‘He never mentioned that his life might be in danger?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Not seriously. He talked about the curse of the Madonna, but that would have applied only after he’d found it.’

  ‘And you think Dr Joyner was hunting for the Madonna statue in the well?’

  ‘I assume so. He implied he knew where it was. And that maybe others did too. He asked Iris where the well was located. But he never took me into his confidence. When he asked me to arrange the visit, he’d told me he just wanted to talk to Iris about the legend that treasure from Sidlesham Abbey might be buried at the Priory.’

  Joe nodded. ‘We all know that story,’ he said. ‘At least, those of us who grew up round here do. Dr Joyner insisted on being left alone?’

  ‘Yes. Iris warned him of the dangers and several of us volunteered to stay with him.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘I’m trying to recall. Iris said she’d stay. So did Professor Cox. So did Dr Tomlinson – I think she was quite keen to stay. And I offered too. Dr Joyner was adamant that he would rather we left him.’

  ‘Did he say why?’

  ‘No, but I did wonder, later, if he planned to look at the well at all – Iris was very certain he was wasting his time. She said it had been checked very thoroughly years ago, but that didn’t seem to bother Dr Joyner. The thought occurred to me that perhaps he had plans to search elsewhere in the garden and just wanted us out of the way so nobody saw where he went. He had a map with him. That might give us a clue.’

  Joe nodded. ‘We did recover a piece of paper from his pocket. It looked quite old, but after its immersion in the well, you couldn’t make a lot out. We’ll see if anything can be done with it, but I’m not optimistic. Did you see Dr Joyner at all after you left him at the well?’

  ‘I thought I did for a moment – through the trees – but I mistook Iris’s white jacket for his.’

  ‘You’re sure? You don’t sound convinced.’

  I thought about it. Whether Joyner had moved away from the well, then returned, might be an important point. ‘I saw a white jacket, lost sight of it again, then came across Iris Munnings and Tertius Sly together.’

  ‘And Dr Joyner and Mrs Munnings would be about the same height and build?’

  ‘Pretty much. I can see what you’re getting at, Joe, but I really don’t think it was Joyner that I saw. Yes, you might mistake one for the other, at least just for a moment from behind – similar jackets, similar build, broad-brimmed hats. But surely Iris and Sly would have also seen Joyner if he had been so close to them? And they haven’t said that, have they? It must have been Iris that I saw.’

  ‘No, they haven’t said that,’ said Joe. He made a note or two in his book. ‘Actually, what you say fits in pretty well with what the others have told me. After you all set out round the garden, nobody admits to seeing Dr Joyner alive. It seems likely that he just fell, accidentally – possibly shortly after you all left him.’

  ‘Is there anything else I can tell you?’ I asked.

  ‘Officially, you have been very helpful and I have no more questions. Officially.’ He closed his notebook and put it on the table. ‘But I wouldn’t mind your view unofficially. You see, Ethelred, this looks very much like an accident. Everyone agrees that the well was unsafe but that Dr Joyner insisted on examining it, against the advice of Mrs Munnings. The light wasn’t good under the trees. The brickwork was not in great condition. He could have tripped on something and fallen, striking his head on the brick parapet or the wall of the shaft as he fell. Or perhaps he leant over and the brick he was holding gave way. The one thing we do know already is that there were small traces of red brick in the wound on the back of his head, consistent with striking his head on the way down
the shaft. Of course, somebody could have returned to the well, after you all left, crept up behind him and either hit him with a brick or just pushed him in. The poor light would have made that easier too. The problem would be saying who that was. Just as nobody saw Joyner, nobody saw anyone else heading for the well. More sophisticated techniques won’t help us much, either. I have no doubt we’ll find everyone’s DNA on him, but that’s because you were all sitting together, passing cups to each other, and many of you doubtless shook hands as you arrived. Same with the odd thread from any of your clothes on his or vice versa. And there’s no CCTV anywhere here – Mrs Munnings says she couldn’t afford it. Unless somebody unexpectedly confesses, I can’t honestly see where the evidence would come from to show that this was anything but misadventure. And yet, I’m uneasy about it all, for reasons I can’t quite understand. Perhaps I read too many crime novels. You know all of the people who were here today. If this was fiction – if this was one of your own stories – what would have happened?’

  ‘You mean who had a motive for killing him?’

  ‘If you like. You know all of the parties involved.’

  ‘Nobody,’ I said. ‘As a crime writer, I’ve obviously been thinking along exactly the same lines. I can’t help myself. There was a mutual antipathy between him and Professor Cox, but Cox held all the cards, as it were. He already had a chair in modern history, a whole raft of publications, including some bestsellers and, last but not least, Joyner’s old rooms in College. Joyner was no threat to him and was about to retire. I don’t know much about Fay Tomlinson …’

  ‘The one who was very keen to stay with him? She’s a junior research fellow. Professor Cox appointed her. She and Cox seem very … close, you might say. She stood to get Joyner’s fellowship when he retired – only so long as Cox backed her, but she seems to have Cox exactly where she needs him. With Joyner about to retire, there was no need for her to bump him off to speed things up – even if she’d been that way inclined. She says she and Professor Cox were together in the garden the whole time. Never left his side. He says that too, which is very nice for both of them.’