Sepulchre Street, page 29
‘Not far to go now,’ Martha murmured.
Jacob stared out at the Marsh. A vast, lonely landscape beneath sepia clouds. Spring was almost here, but a fierce wind was blowing. It had shaped the trees, bending them to its will. Even the sheep seemed melancholy. His skin prickled. In a place so far off the beaten track, sinister crimes might never come to light.
‘I checked the maps,’ Trueman said. ‘There’s a rutted farm trail leading off the lane on the far side of Tucker’s house. We passed it on Sunday afternoon. I bet the police will have set up down there.’
They were the first words he’d uttered since they’d left London. He’d kept his eyes on the road, pushing the car as hard as he could. Even as they flew along the country byways, Jacob never felt in danger. Trueman was skilled and confident; fast as he drove, he never took unnecessary risks.
‘First stop, The Risings,’ Rachel said.
A few minutes later, they turned into the short drive of Tucker’s home. A bicycle leaned against the front wall and a uniformed police constable was talking to an elderly woman in a hat and coat that had seen better days.
Trueman pulled up and Rachel sprang out of the car, with Jacob on her heels.
‘Good afternoon,’ she said. ‘We’re looking for Mr Evan Tucker.’
‘He’s not here!’ the woman said.
‘Friend of Mr Tucker, are you?’ the policeman said. ‘Can I have your name, ma’am?’
‘I’m Rachel Savernake. Has Inspector Oakes arrived from Scotland Yard?’
‘Another pal of yours, is he?’ His tone was jocular and disbelieving.
‘As it happens, Philip Oakes and I dined together yesterday evening,’ she said coolly. ‘After church.’
The policeman looked as if he’d swallowed something that didn’t agree with him. As he struggled to digest her reply, Rachel addressed the woman.
‘You’re Mrs Collyer, aren’t you?’
The woman gaped as if being addressed by a magician or mind reader. An impressive trick, Jacob thought. Trueman had picked up the cleaning lady’s name at The Owlers, and Rachel had filed it away in her memory. One of her gifts was that she understood the value of teamwork.
‘Why, yes, ma’am. However did you know…?’
‘Any idea where Mr Tucker might be?’
‘There’s not a trace of him anywhere.’
‘He didn’t leave a note for you?’
‘No, it’s awfully peculiar.’
‘Why?’
‘Usually I see him here on a Monday morning, before he sets off for London. If he’s not at home, he’ll leave an envelope with my money in and any instructions about what he wants doing.’
‘But not today?’
‘No, not a penny piece for my trouble!’
‘And he’s not laid up in bed or lying at the bottom of the steps to the cellar?’
‘Goodness me, no! I’ve given the whole place a quick once-over. I’m very thorough, you know.’
‘I’m sure. Has he disappeared like this before?’
‘Never! I come in one day a week, to do the rough. I’m the last one left after the other servants packed their bags. Not that I get much thanks…’
‘Has his bed been slept in?’
‘Actually, no, it hasn’t. Why do you ask?’
‘Is it common for him not to sleep here on a Sunday evening?’
‘Not at all. I can’t remember the last time it happened.’
As he listened to these exchanges, Jacob was conscious of excitement rising within him, bubbling up to the surface. He simply couldn’t contain himself any longer.
‘So Tucker has done a bunk. Maybe Butterworth isn’t the only suspect!’
Ignoring him, Rachel strolled over to the garage. She took a quick look through a small side window before re-joining the little group at the front of the house. The policeman couldn’t take his eyes off her. It was as if she’d mesmerised him. Jacob felt a spurt of sympathy. Rachel did have that effect on people.
‘Tell me, PC…’
‘Leather, ma’am.’
‘Well, then, PC Leather. Two vehicles are in the garage. I recognise the Aston Martin. Captain Malam owned several cars and that was one of them. He must have driven here in it after his Bentley was bombed the other day. Did you find his trunk inside?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Packed and ready for a journey he never made.’ She shook her head. ‘Then do I presume that the Crossley standing next to it belongs to Mr Tucker?’
Mrs Collyer piped up. ‘You’re right, miss. His pride and joy, that car is.’
‘Wherever he’s gone, then, he hasn’t driven there.’
‘That’s true, ma’am,’ PC Leather said. ‘Mind you, there’s a very good train service in these parts. The stations at Appledore and Hamstreet aren’t that far away.’
‘A very stiff walk from here.’
‘Yes, ma’am, but once you’re there you can get to pretty much anywhere you want.’ He spoke with a touch of parochial pride.
‘How convenient.’
Mrs Collyer sniffed. ‘And some folk say this is the back of beyond!’
A car engine roared and they all turned their heads. Philip Oakes’ status as the coming man at Scotland Yard was reflected in the fact that he was being driven towards the house in a smart new Daimler. He jumped out and exchanged salutes with PC Leather.
‘Afternoon, Miss Savernake. What brings you here?’
Chronic nosiness, Jacob was tempted to say, but he kept his lip buttoned.
‘I hope it’s not too much of an imposition when you’re so busy, Inspector.’ Her manner was demure, which Jacob always found worrying. ‘Dare I ask a favour? Would you accompany me to the scene of the crime?’
Oakes shook his head. ‘The chief constable is due here in half an hour. I’m afraid he’ll expect me to…’
‘Please, Inspector, I know you’re a busy man. This isn’t a frivolous request. We may find something new, something important.’
He cast a glance over his shoulder at the police constable, who was now exchanging a word with Oakes’ sergeant. ‘The local men have examined the spot where the body was found.’
‘Twenty minutes of your time is all I ask.’
‘I don’t…’
‘Have I ever let you down?’
He groaned. ‘Very well. Against my better judgement, I’ll say yes. Twenty minutes, mind. Not a second more.’
‘Thank you, Inspector. You’re right, there’s no time to waste.’
33
Oakes led Rachel and Jacob through the grounds of The Risings until they squeezed through the insubstantial fence marking the boundary of Tucker’s property. A strip of land separated the fence from a narrow channel of mud-brown water that formed a natural division between the fields. Barely two feet deep, the ditch was clogged with reeds.
‘You’ve interviewed Nurse Wardle?’ Rachel asked.
‘I sent a message ahead, asking the men on the spot to make sure that neither she nor Tucker left the area before I spoke to them. Unfortunately, Tucker had already made himself scarce. Whether there’s a criminal reason for his departure, it’s too early to say. By the look of things, he may have left his home yesterday.’
‘And Nurse Wardle?’
‘I saw her at Orgarswick. She was co-operative, but I didn’t get much out of her. She maintains she was desperate to get away from the Marsh even before she heard of her brother-in-law’s violent death. From what you’ve told me about her… activities, I presume she was telling the truth.’
‘You didn’t question her about what has been going on at the clinic?’
He looked Rachel in the eye. ‘No, I didn’t. There are more urgent priorities. A man has been murdered.’
‘Can she cast any light on what happened to Captain Malam?’
He shook his head. ‘She claimed she was astonished to hear he’d turned up in the neighbourhood. He’d not been in contact with her, so she could only presume that he’d come to visit Tucker. Logical enough, I suppose.’
‘Where is she now?’
‘While I was speaking to her, a taxi was waiting to take her to the station. She told me she’s been planning to leave the country.’
‘Did you ask her to stay in England?’
‘No need. She told me candidly that she didn’t care much for Malam, but even though they were never close, his death has come as a great shock. So she has booked into a small hotel in London for the next few nights and expects to stay there until after the funeral.’
In the stiff wind, Jacob felt cold and impatient. ‘You don’t think she’s hoping to inherit? With his brother dead, Malam didn’t have any close family.’
‘Inherit what, exactly?’ Rachel sounded dismissive.
‘Just a thought,’ he said moodily. ‘Was the body found here?’
‘No,’ Oakes said. ‘A few hundred yards away. Halfway between The Risings and Nurse Wardle’s clinic. There’s a rough track that leads from the lane. They used it to shift Malam’s remains into the ambulance. This way.’
They tramped along beside the watercourse. Finally they reached the farm track. A ruined brick building stood nearby. Small and square, it had windows open to the elements.
‘What’s this?’ Jacob asked.
‘They call them lookers’ huts,’ Rachel replied. ‘Ever since the Black Death laid waste to the Marsh, absentee landowners have paid lookers to keep an eye on their flocks. Sheep are docile, they don’t jump ditches, and the lookers used to work for more than one master, covering a huge amount of ground. These old huts were built for them to use, especially when the time came for lambing and shearing.’
‘You’re a mine of information, Miss Savernake.’
Oakes’ admiring tone grated with Jacob, who said grumpily, ‘She reads a lot of books.’
‘I assume the hut has been examined, Inspector?’ Rachel said.
‘Of course. No obvious clues there.’
The hut had an ancient wooden door, almost off its hinges. She went inside and looked around before emerging with a shake of the head.
‘As you say, there’s nothing. So Captain Malam’s body was found in the ditch at this point?’
‘That’s right. The farm worker came up the track from the lane. When the local constable got here, he soon discovered what seems to be the murder weapon.’
‘Strange, don’t you think?’ She pointed across the field towards a larger drainage ditch, running in a straight line as far as the eye could see. ‘Why dump Malam’s body here, in such a shallow grave, with very little attempt at concealment? The sewer over there appears to be wider and deeper. More suitable as a last resting place for a body you don’t want to be discovered in a hurry.’
‘If the murderer was in a hurry…’ Oakes began.
‘If someone had the time to bring Malam’s body here, why not take it a little further?’
‘Spoiling the ship for a ha’porth of tar,’ Jacob said sagely.
Rachel winced. ‘Please spare us your homespun wisdom, Jacob. You’re not writing for the Clarion now.’
‘All right, how about this idea? Suppose the murder was committed right here. Butterworth might have agreed to meet Malam at the hut and bludgeoned him to death when he turned up? After that, perhaps he panicked and ran for it.’
‘Not a bad theory,’ Rachel said. ‘However, it begs a number of questions. For instance, why would Malam venture out to such a lonely place to meet a sworn enemy?’
‘Especially if darkness was falling,’ Oakes said.
‘Don’t dismiss an idea simply because it seems unlikely,’ Jacob retorted. ‘We all know that it’s often difficult to account for a murderer’s actions.’
‘You have a point,’ the detective said. ‘Especially in the case of a man like Butterworth. He’s suffered from shell shock for years. His memory’s faulty and his behaviour is scarcely rational.’
Rachel shook her head. ‘Shell shock and amnesia are misunderstood. Usually by people who have never experienced them. It’s easy for them to become simple explanations for things we don’t understand.’
Jacob turned to her. ‘Do you think Tucker is involved in Malam’s death?’
‘We know there’s a connection between them. And Malam parked his car at The Risings. The obvious assumption is that he came straight from his London flat to meet Tucker.’
‘Why?’ Oakes asked. ‘And anyway, does it matter?’
‘The answer to your second question, Inspector, is yes. And the reason is that finding the right answer to your first question will unlock the whole mystery.’
‘Too deep for me,’ Jacob grumbled.
‘There’s something else. It won’t have escaped your notice as we were walking here that there are curious impressions on the ground.’
She bent down and indicated marks where the grass had been flattened. The indentations could barely be seen by the naked eye. Jacob hadn’t actually spotted them until now.
Oakes nodded. ‘I saw that scuffing. You can make out some of the marks, even though someone seems to have tried to trample the ground to hide them. What’s more, it rained heavily during the night. But they are still just about visible. Looks to me as though something has been dragged along by someone wearing gumboots.’
‘That something being the body?’ Jacob said.
‘First-rate deduction,’ Rachel said. ‘However, two types of marks are just about visible, aren’t they? Those made by boots and some others. Looks like something has been used to transport the body.’
‘Whatever it is,’ Oakes said, ‘we haven’t found any other evidence of it.’
Jacob shrugged. ‘Obviously the murderer took it away with him.’
‘Where was it taken?’ Rachel demanded. ‘And why?’
‘Very good questions,’ he admitted.
‘That’s what people say when they can’t be bothered to work out the answers. Think, Jacob!’
Oakes cleared his throat. ‘Fairly straightforward, isn’t it? Butterworth wouldn’t want to be lumbered with anything as he made good his escape. Maybe he dropped it in one of these drainage ditches. I’ll order a search to be carried out. Pity we don’t know what exactly we’re looking for, but…’
‘We are looking for a sled,’ Rachel said.
‘A sled?’ he echoed. ‘Sorry to be dense, Miss Savernake, but you’ll have to explain.’
‘Are you familiar with the skeleton, Inspector?’
He stared at her.
‘It’s a winter sport, very fashionable these days. Captain Malam was good at it. In the days when he was trying to impress me with his feats of derring-do, he let slip that he’d won medals for it.’
‘And the sled is called a skeleton?’
‘Yes, you lie on it and ride down a frozen track.’ She indicated the impressions on the ground. ‘Runners, you see?’
Oakes nodded.
‘I couldn’t help thinking that if one made a few adjustments to a sled – adding a rope and so on – it would be a splendid means of transporting a corpse.’
‘Good grief,’ Jacob said.
Rachel wasn’t wearing a hat and the wind was whipping up her hair. She pushed a few strands out of her eyes as she contemplated the ditch which had become a makeshift grave.
‘Ironic, don’t you think, if the captain’s own skeleton was used to dispose of his remains?’
*
For a few moments they stood in silence. The wind had gathered strength and rain was in the air. The only living creatures in sight were the sheep and they’d been roused from their torpor to go in search of shelter. Jacob leaned against the wall of the lookers’ hut.
‘I don’t suppose we could reconstruct the crime?’ he said hopefully.
‘Would you really like me to hit you over the head and shove you into a ditch?’ Rachel asked. ‘No, you suppose correctly.’
‘What next, then?’
‘Orgarswick is close by.’
She pointed. They could see the roof of the clinic, even though the bulk of the building was obscured by thickets of hawthorn.
‘I really ought to be getting back.’ Oakes took a step towards the rutted farm track. ‘There’s a lot to do, and your twenty minutes is up. The chief constable will be expecting me to pull rabbits out of my hat.’
‘Please indulge me just a little longer, Inspector. I’ve come up with an idea which I’d like to test. You won’t find it a waste of time.’ She smiled. ‘I may even find you a rabbit.’
He heaved a sigh. ‘You’re dangerously persuasive, Miss Savernake. All right.’
As they headed towards Orgarswick, Jacob said, ‘You believe Tucker is up to his neck in all this, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ Rachel said.
‘You think he’s hiding behind Butterworth?’ Oakes demanded. ‘Using him as a blind for purposes of his own?’
‘What if it was Tucker who paid Butterworth’s legal fees, not Malam?’ Jacob said.
‘Why would he do that?’ Rachel asked.
‘Why would Malam blow up his own car?’ Jacob said. ‘None of it makes sense.’
‘I disagree. There’s a pattern here. Look carefully enough, and we’ll find it.’
‘You’re not hoping to take advantage of Nurse Wardle’s absence to search her house?’ Jacob said.
‘What would I hope to find? She is an intelligent woman and she’ll have removed any evidence of criminal behaviour. Besides, if I was contemplating an illegal trespass, would I have invited Inspector Oakes along as a witness?’
‘What, then?’
‘Martha came here on Saturday. She gave me a good description of everything she did.’
‘And?’
‘One little thing she mentioned made me sit up and take note.’ Rachel gave a thin smile. ‘Patience, Jacob. I promise, you won’t have much longer to wait.’
They’d reached the edge of the grounds of Orgarswick. Inspector Oakes stopped by the fence.
‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’
Rachel smiled. ‘It’s the thrill of the chase. I yearn for it like an addict craves the needle.’
