A Full Churchyard (18 page)

‘In simple terms, Wayne, we're looking for anyone who might have helped those old folks to die. That alone is murder.'

‘But there's more?'

‘Right. People don't commit murder without a motive and I cannot accept these deaths are done out of kindness alone. If the same team is causing all the deaths, then there must one motive – so what is it? Bearing in mind what we've already heard, could it be theft of the belongings of vulnerable people? I think that is highly likely and if so, the old folks cannot make complaints because they're dead. We, the police, are never made aware of the crime and so we cannot take appropriate action. So is someone helping victims to die simply to prevent them complaining about a lesser crime? Answers to those questions could lead us to the killer or killers.'

‘Having said all that, sir, we need to eliminate the innocent from this cold-case review,' mused Wayne. ‘When we achieve that, only the guilty will remain. . . .'

‘Then
you
can start by proving the innocence of Mrs Pluke beyond all doubt, Wayne. And perhaps you could interview Dr Simpson to obtain his views on all this? Is he part of a criminal team or is he merely doing his job by certifying the deaths? Has he dealt with all such deaths, or merely a selection of them?'

Wayne said nothing. There was nothing he could say at that instant because their walk was over. They were entering the mighty portals of Crickledale Sub-Divisional Police Station where, as always, Pluke poked his head into the Control Room.

‘Ah, Sergeant Cockfield-pronounced-Cofield, is everything peaceful and quiet?'

‘All quiet, sir, nothing's changed. It doesn't mean we are heading for an earthquake, does it? Even the sparrows have stopped chirping. They say that wild creatures can sense the approach of severe storms and tempests. . . .'

‘Then we can expect something nasty,' warned Pluke as he headed up the stairs to his office, making sure he touched the wooden handrail to ensure the best of fortune. Wayne went to his own office.

Once at his desk, Pluke moved the various ornaments into their correct places then settled down. At that point, Mrs Plumpton entered.

‘Anything I can get you, Mr Pluke?'

‘Yes please, Mrs Plumpton. Is that file about the death of Edgar Lindsey convenient or is it still in my in-tray? He was the man whose gold watch was lost or possibly stolen.'

‘I can find it in a moment or two.'

‘Excellent. Then perhaps you could copy this list of CVC volunteers and run a criminal record check against their names? I want to know if any have come to the notice of the police. And there is also a list of clients/patients of the CVC, both past and present – can you check all their names against our files of sudden deaths? It's important we establish who, among these CVC patients, particularly the elderly ones, died unexpectedly or in peculiar circumstances without the police being officially notified. I don't think the CVC cares for every old person in Crickledale but we need to know the name of those who are CVC clients and who have died.'

‘That shouldn't be a problem, you've done well to obtain these lists. It'll give me something useful to do.'

‘You might have to search back a long way, even to the time the CVC was formed, whenever that was. And we need to check whether any CVC clients over the years, have reported any matter to the police. I'm thinking of fairly minor stuff that old folks might complain about or merely mention – thefts from their homes, items that may have been lost or stolen, prowlers in the house or the immediate vicinity.'

‘I'll get Sergeant Cockfield-pronounced-Cofield to check his complaints files. He will keep such records.'

‘Do that, and include strangers arriving on the doorstep trying to gain admission, even assaults by staff and generally things that go bump in the night. Anything that has alarmed them, anything out of the ordinary.'

‘I'll be pleased to do that for you,' she smiled, thinking how forceful he had become now that he had something to occupy him. ‘It will make me feel like a real detective.'

‘You've already displayed your remarkable talents,' he smiled.

As she left his office she pondered the deeper meaning of his last remark and he settled down to examine the routine correspondence that always managed to accumulate even when he was absent for a very short time. He initialled most of it to indicate he had read it, and then placed it in the ‘out' file. Mrs Plumpton would do something with it.

Sitting alone in his quiet office, he decided this was an ideal opportunity to speak to the town duty inspector about Mr Lindsey. He could do so before Mrs Plumpton located the file and information he'd requested. He told Mrs Plumpton where he was heading and left without taking his hat, but making sure he stepped out with his right foot first. En route, he passed the open doorway of the Control Room but on this occasion did not stop to ask Sergeant Cockfield-pronounced-Cofield whether there had been any incidents.

The sergeant was very puzzled that Pluke had walked past without stopping – was he ill? He always poked his head inside to ask what had happened. So was something actually happening at this moment? Is that why he had sent Mrs Plumpton down to go through his files?

The sergeant returned to his silent console and waited for his radio to chirp or his phone to ring but they remained silent. Mrs Plumpton was in the back room but as the sergeant waited, he could hear Pluke's progress along the corridor and was astonished when he halted outside Inspector Horsley's office. So there
was
something afoot – Pluke and Horsley never seemed to get along with one another so a friendly visit was out of the question. Obviously, there was important and perhaps secret police business afoot.

Pluke tapped on the door and a voice called ‘Enter'.

‘Ah, Montague,' the thick-set, dark-haired figure of Inspector Horsley was seated at his desk. ‘To what do I owe this rare honour? Come in and sit down.'

‘May I have a word, Inspector Horsley,' as always Pluke refrained from using Christian names when conducting official police business.

‘You can, I have the time right now, it's so very quiet these days. Nothing is happening. So how can I help the majesty of Crickledale CID?'

Pluke sat on a chair near the inspector's desk and opened with, ‘I'm conducting a cold-case review and whilst I would normally have selected an undetected crime for detailed analysis I find we have no undetected major crimes in Crickledale's CID records.'

‘That's because nothing very serious ever happens in Crickledale, Montague. The uniform lads deal with all the minor crimes as you know, but we can't boast a 100 per cent detection rate. It means your officers don't have enough to occupy them, do they? There are times I wonder what your department does with itself all day.'

Pluke responded. ‘We investigate crimes committed in other areas as well as our own, their villains might be living and operating on our patch, Inspector Horsley. And don't forget that much of our work is secret and confidential, often involving national security.'

‘You can tell a good story, Montague, but our local uniformed officers work closely with the public. We accept that thieves get away with some minor crimes and we've a lot of undetected cases on our books. Criminal damage to car wing-mirrors, theft of ladies' handbags, nicking apples from displays outside fruit shops, taking spoons as souvenirs from coffee shops. You name it, we deal with it. If we are made aware of any crimes, we do our best to detect them, but most will never be detected. So how can I help?'

‘You will recall a gold watch that was reported stolen last June – the owner was an elderly gentleman called Lindsey. Edgar Lindsey.'

‘Yes, I remember it. It was one of those peculiar cases that one never forgets. His son reported the watch either lost or stolen. I remember it because it was distinctly odd.'

‘What was odd about it?'

‘I'll get the file, Montague. It's still active because we haven't traced the watch or identified the thief. We live in eternal hope that it might turn up in an antique shop or car boot sale.'

He went into his secretary's office and returned with the file, not yet tied up with string.

‘As I said, there were peculiar circumstances, Montague, one of which was that the loser died within a few days of the theft coming to our notice. He was 89 years old and lived alone. His wife had died some years earlier and his only child, a son called Rupert, lived in Coventry and rarely visited his dad.'

‘Neglect, was it?'

‘Not really. The son did his best to visit at weekends but it was often impossible due to his own domestic commitments and work. Our local carers – the CVC – looked after the old man and so far as I was concerned, they did a good job.'

‘When you said there were other peculiar circumstances, what did you mean?'

‘We police officers have an instinct for such things, Montague. You know when things aren't quite right even though there seems to be no apparent reason for such thoughts. That's how I felt with this one. It smelled, as we say.'

‘Was it because the watch had been lost whilst you thought it had been stolen?'

‘Obviously you know something about it. We must remember, Montague, that old Mr Lindsey was in a poor state of health, his memory had gone and he was suffering from dementia.'

‘That doesn't excuse a crime being committed against him.'

‘Far from it, but he was vulnerable. It was just a few days before his death that his gold watch disappeared. It was valuable from a financial point of view and as a family heirloom. I can't give you a true value because I never saw it but his son Rupert insisted it was worth at least £500 and probably more.'

‘Well worth stealing?'

‘Certainly, but the circumstances were very strange. It was said the old man never left the house although I don't think that was ever proved – he could have wandered outside and lost it in his garden which was then overgrown, or lost it in the street or a shop. Or even in his own house. We searched but never found it. Now you're going to ask whether it was lost or stolen, aren't you?'

‘It was recorded as a theft, Inspector, but also as lost property. That's how I became aware of it. I found it odd that you should record it as both. Normally it's one or the other.'

‘I recorded it as both to cover all the options – if it was lost, it might have been found and handed in somewhere, even at another police station. The computers would have traced it. If it had been stolen, more extensive enquiries would have been made.'

‘So did your officers investigate it as a crime?'

‘We recorded it as a crime, Montague, and circulated details which is why it is in the station records. I would hesitate to say we investigated it, there were no in-depth enquiries. Mr Lindsey's fragile health and state of mind made it impossible to interview him. The truth is, we never established what had happened but his son made quite a fuss about it.'

‘It wasn't buried with him, was it?'

‘No, it went missing before he died.'

‘So if Mr Lindsey was so old and suffering from dementia, how can you be certain it was either stolen or lost? It could have been missing for years.'

‘It wasn't, Montague. His son kept an eye on it every time he visited his dad. It was a family heirloom handed down from father to eldest son, so the son had a good reason for looking after it. Although we don't know the age or value of the watch, and have only a vague description, I felt we should do our best to find it. We know it was a Tissot, a good make. We also know that Mr Lindsey never took it off his wrist, not even when having a bath or gardening – that was when he was able to do such things. His son told us this – the son did not like to take it into his own possession for safety because his dad was so attached to it.'

‘I can understand your problems,' sympathized Montague.

‘I think the son made a fuss because he should have inherited the watch when the old man passed away.'

‘So you've discovered quite a lot about it. What intrigues me is how it came to be reported lost or stolen if the old man was not aware of what was happening around him? The crime file says the theft was reported by his son. How did that come about if he was living in Coventry?'

‘One of Mr Lindsey's carers alerted the son – they had his phone number and address and their officials made a point of keeping in touch about the progress or otherwise of Mr Lindsey. Rupert is a lovely man, Montague, most genuine, caring and reliable. He really did love his old dad.'

‘A nice touch, but how did he, and not the carer, come to report the loss of his father's watch?'

‘The carer noticed it missing from the old man's wrist and rang the son who reported it to us by telephone. All he could recollect was that it was a Tissot make with a white face bearing Roman numerals. The old fashioned wind-up type. And it had a gold expanding bracelet. We had no further details. And as I said earlier, the value was unknown. And we don't know precisely when it disappeared.'

‘Surely, there was a search for it? By someone? Family, carer?'

‘There was. A very thorough search was made but it was never found. As I told you, PC Carey searched his house and garden too.'

‘And did you suspect the carer? Was the carer a member of the CVC?'

‘Yes, as it happens. Anyone could have stolen it, even a sneak thief. I had an open mind, Montague, I suspected everyone. The house doors were often left unlocked to permit entry by carers, neighbours and friends in an emergency.'

‘So it would have been easy to enter the house and steal that watch, especially if the old fellow was asleep or if it was on show. Even on his wrist?'

‘Yes, even if it was on his wrist.'

‘We could be thinking of a sneak-thief here, an opportunist villain. They are always about,' acknowledged Pluke. ‘But the CVC has keys to all their clients' homes and most are fitted with key-safes, so why did Mr Lindsey leave his doors open?'