A Full Churchyard (12 page)

Then Pluke spotted Jacob Carpenter, today's undertaker. He was heading for the tea urn but with one of his swift moves, Pluke reached him as he settled down to fill his cup.

‘Jacob,' he asked. ‘Could Sergeant Wain and I have a quick chat with you? Somewhere quiet? Out of earshot? Bring your tea.'

‘Aye, of course, Mr Pluke. It's not often we see you fellows at funerals, so is there summat wrong?'

‘Not that I'm aware of. It's just that I'm intrigued by some of the local funeral customs here in Crickledale, things that have escaped me in all the years I've lived and worked here,' smiled Pluke. And so, with Wayne Wain following, they made their way to a small table in a corner away from flapping ears.

‘Sit down, Jacob,' invited Pluke making rare use of someone's first name. ‘There's something we'd like to ask you.'

Chapter 9

‘I
s it summat
to do with your research into ancient superstitions, Mr Pluke?' asked the undertaker. ‘I do remember that talk you gave to t'annual conference of t'District Association of Funeral Directors, Undertakers and Embalmers –
Times of Death in the Yorkshire Coastal Region
it was called, if my memory serves me right. Dying as t'tide went out and getting born as t'tide came in, that sort o' thing. Very interesting stuff, Mr Pluke.'

‘Thank you, Jacob,' Pluke rarely if ever used a person's Christian name in formal discussions unless he was extremely well acquainted with the other person. His occasional exceptions might include those times he interviewed people of a certain class in circumstances where he did not wish the discussion to appear like an interrogation. He continued, ‘It's pleasing to note your interest and, of course, we must heed such things – we can't dismiss those beliefs as erroneous even if they do date from the Middle Ages. Many of us continue to follow ancient beliefs, perhaps in different ways, so yes, my enquiry does embrace old customs.'

‘Well, I allus touch wood if I've got a tricky job to do and I spit if I see a magpie on its own. Touching wood isn't very difficult when I'm making coffins, but it's nice that I can help you to keep up to date on such things, Mr Pluke. So what do you want to know? You're not planning your own funeral, are you? Some folks do that, you know. Plan it years in advance, reserve a plot and pay up front.'

‘I hope I have many more years of hunting horse-troughs ahead of me, Jacob. I have no intention of departing this life just yet. But down to serious business. Can you remember the death of Miss Croucher? Adelaide Croucher.'

‘I'll never forget it, Mr Pluke. A rum do if you ask me.'

‘Were you her undertaker?'

‘I was. I'll never forget it, a very odd affair, Mr Pluke.'

‘In what way?'

‘Well, her being found lying on t'pantry floor like that, in her nightie, laid out as if waiting for me to deal with her.'

‘It must have been very strange and something of a surprise, finding her like that.'

‘Aye, it was, Mr Pluke. I could see she'd not tripped up or fallen or owt like that, she was just laid there. Neat and tidy. Ready for t'box. Most peaceful she was. You can tell from folks' faces whether they died in peace or not. She was at peace, there was no doubt about that, but I thought what a funny spot to end her days. I still think she was put there, she could never have laid herself out so well and so neatly. I couldn't have done a better job myself.'

‘So what was your reaction?'

‘Well, I thought about her only this week when I had to deal with Mrs Langneb. She was on t'floor an' all, just like poor old Miss Croucher, just lying there as if she'd been placed ready for t'box.'

‘Have there been others like that? Either those you've heard about or those you've seen for yourself?'

‘Aye, one or two, Mr Pluke, but I don't do all t'Crickledale funerals, you understand. I've had to cope with old folks lying on t'floor, and I know other funeral men have done t'same in this town. Don't ask for names, I can't remember much these days. Old age, you know. It gets you like that. Miss Croucher was a bit different because t'police were called in and they thought she'd been attacked. That was my reaction an' all, Mr Pluke. I thought she'd been assaulted and left there. It was a shock, believe me, you don't expect such things in Crickledale.'

‘But by the time you were called in, all the preliminary work would have been done?'

‘It was, but I had to deal with her remains, Mr Pluke. Anyone seeing her lying where she was would have thought somebody had broken in and attacked her. But it wasn't like that. No injuries, no bruising . . . she was just lying there at peace. Mind you, I don't know how she got herself downstairs, she could hardly walk and allus used that lift on t'staircase. It goes up and down at t'touch of a button. Marvellous contraption, Mr Pluke, for old folks who are a bit lame.'

‘And where was the lift when you arrived?'

‘Top o' t'stairs in its resting place, Mr Pluke. I know that because I wondered how it had got there. If she'd come down on it to get herself a drink of milk or summat, it would have come downstairs with Miss Croucher on board.'

‘So what were your thoughts?'

‘Well, I thought somebody must 'ave replaced it, sent it back upstairs – mebbe it was t'person who laid her out, that's what I thought. But I never asked, it was nowt to do with me, was it? I was curious, that's all.'

‘So that made you think the entire situation was rather odd?'

‘It did. Things didn't add up, Mr Pluke. She had no slippers on, I noticed that, undertakers do notice what their customers wear at t'time of death in case there was some request for bits and pieces to go into t'coffin with 'em. Folks still believe in that you know, they want to take their precious bits and pieces with 'em into eternity. Some want 'em beside 'em in t'coffin, and others are happy for 'em to go into t'grave at their side. Linton Farewell and his Sooty mate see to all the stuff that goes into t'grave, I see to what goes into t'coffin.'

‘I'm still surprised that people want that kind of thing, Jacob. Quite fascinating.'

‘I knew one fellow who wanted his Hornby train set buried with him, it had been a Christmas present from his dad when the chap was a kid o' three years old. Very touching, Mr Pluke. And we did what he wanted. Then there was that chap who wanted a bell buried with him, with a pull-string, just in case they buried him alive and he woke up under six feet of soil. Some just settle for a keepsake, a present mebbe, their wedding dress or summat. Some folks get very attached to their belongings, Mr Pluke.'

‘I'll bet you can tell a few stories! Anyway, back to Miss Croucher. You think she hadn't been moved before you arrived?'

‘No, Dr Simpson had certified her dead but she'd been left until t'police had come and done whatever they do in such cases. Examine t'scene, take photographs, look for fingerprints and so on. Nothing must be touched at what they think is the scene of a crime. That's summat I've learned in this trade.'

‘Absolutely right. And were you there as the police started their work?'

‘I got there towards the tail-end of their examination, Mr Pluke. They took photos and tested for fingerprints and such before I arrived. I think they thought there was summat odd about it all. I got there after I'd been rung up by t'police to ask me to take her off to t'hospital for a post mortem which I did, then afterwards I took her to our Chapel of Rest to await t'funeral.'

‘A perfectly normal task for you?'

‘Oh, aye. Nowt odd about all those routine bits and bobs. Because there were no suspicious circumstances, her funeral could go ahead. Even though t'police found nowt suspicious I still think there was summat very odd about it.'

‘You're something of an expert in these matters?'

‘I wouldn't say I was an expert, Mr Pluke. Let's just say I'm very experienced.'

‘Were the doors and windows open whilst you were in the house?'

‘Oh aye, folks often do that when there's a dead person lying there. Some say it's to let fresh air into t'place and others say it's an old fashioned belief that allows t'soul or t'spirit to depart in peace. Round here, it's more likely it's because Sooty Black will have been to sweep the chimney – that's his way of helping folks, a clean sweep for no charge, even if t'spot smells of soot afterwards. He helps out with the carers, they know when chimneys need sweeping, Mr Pluke. Some around here smoke a lot.'

‘It's mainly the old folk who still have coal fires, isn't it, Jacob.'

‘Aye, younger folks have central heating – folks often open their windows because that makes it too hot.'

‘Opening windows after death is a very old belief, Jacob.'

‘Aye, and it's still going strong, Mr Pluke. Mind you, while t'police were doing their examination, with t'body still on t'floor, they closed t'ground floor doors leading outside. For privacy, you understand. Crowds do gather to gawp at such goings-on.'

‘Do you often come across that sort of thing?' asked Wain.

‘Oh aye, quite often. If t'deceased is upstairs in bed, awaiting us to turn up and carry 'em off to t'Chapel of Rest, all t'windows will generally be open upstairs. . . .'

‘Upstairs?' queried Pluke.

‘Nowadays just upstairs but sometimes on t'landing. Downstairs there might be a door standing open but with t'windows shut and curtains drawn. To be private. But with t'mirrors turned to face t'wall, fires put out, food taken away – folks still have all kind of customs when loved ones die, Mr Pluke.'

‘Similar customs, are they?'

‘Aye, broadly similar although they vary from family to family. We never comment, we just let 'em get on with such things and do what they feel necessary. It helps with t'mourning process, so they tell me.'

‘So can you recall anything else that was unusual or odd whilst you were in Miss Croucher's house?' asked Pluke.

‘I didn't go upstairs to her bedroom, Mr Pluke, there was no need. So that's all I can tell you.'

‘And was there any local gossip about the manner of her death, Jacob?'

‘Oh aye, there's allus gossip, Mr Pluke.'

‘Such as?' pressed Wayne.

‘Normal stuff with some saying she'd been helped to die. . . .'

‘Helped to die?' queried Pluke.

‘Aye, it used to be done in t'olden days, Mr Pluke, when somebody was suffering. Relatives or friends would give a helping hand; there's a tale here in Crickledale where a woman's husband was having a tough time dying so she helped him on his way by cutting off his breathing with his own best tie knotted tightly around his neck. They said he went off like a lamb.'

‘And such cases were never regarded as murder?'

‘Good heavens no, Mr Pluke, they were done out o'love and kindness. Folks reckon it was a great act of generosity to help someone over t'final threshold, from life into death in t'easiest possible way. It goes on, Mr Pluke. It allus will in my opinion.'

‘Even today you mean?'

‘Oh aye, not that t'authorities will ever know. Doctors know about it and I reckon Miss Croucher was given a helping hand.'

‘And that didn't puzzle you? Or trouble you?' asked Wayne.

‘Nay, not in t'least. What puzzled me was how she'd got herself downstairs without using her stairlift. I wondered if she'd managed to get down and lie on her back on that cold floor to help herself to die. . . .'

‘If she was desperate she might have been able to achieve that,' offered Wayne. ‘She might have got herself downstairs without using the chair lift.'

‘I don't think so,' ventured Pluke. ‘I think she was aided in her death and that the helper accompanied her downstairs as she used her lift, and then laid her gently on the floor to die in peace – and the helper then restored the lift to the top of the stairs.'

‘Why would they do that?' asked Wayne.

‘To give the impression that Miss Croucher had struggled downstairs alone, perhaps to get herself a drink or something to eat, and once downstairs, the appearance would suggest her effort had been so great that she had collapsed.'

‘Onto a cold stone floor? That would finish her off, sure as shot,' said Jacob. ‘They reckon it's the sudden shock that does it.'

‘I can believe that, Jacob. And so she died at peace,' suggested Pluke. ‘Or, of course, the killer might have sent the lift back to the top of the stairs so that Miss Croucher could not make use of it to return to the warmth of her bed.'

‘Aye, well, I heard she couldn't climb stairs on her own,' put in Jacob Carpenter. ‘She wasn't very good on her legs.'

‘You said killer, sir?' Wayne Wain was alarmed by Pluke's apparent carelessness. After all, Pluke had stressed he did not want the townspeople to be terrified by lurid stories of a killer at large. So why had he used that word, even just between the three of them? It might have been overheard.

‘I think you meant helper?' suggested Jacob. ‘These cases aren't murder, Mr Pluke, these folks aren't killers. It's a case of helping suffering folks to find peace in death. I'm sure you don't want to alarm the population of Crickledale by suggesting there is a sadistic killer on the rampage hereabouts.'

‘That's the last thing I want to do, Jacob. But within the world of criminal law, the term killer can be applied to those who commit various degrees of homicide – murder, manslaughter, infanticide, assisting suicide, causing death by dangerous or by careless driving whilst under the influence of alcohol or drugs, self-defence and even misadventure. If someone helped people like Miss Croucher to die, then such a person is a killer – but I accept that not all killers are criminals and not all are murderers.'