A Full Churchyard (22 page)

That friend was now the manager of Rosklethorpe Fire Station in the north-east of the county and he carried the rank of Assistant Divisional Officer, ADO for short. Not surprisingly he had to endure jokes about making much ado about nothing but his real name was James Russell. Because Pluke was using a secure line, his call went direct to Russell whose handset identified the person who was calling.

‘Hello there, Montague,' came the brisk response. ‘Nice to hear from you. Does this mean you've found some more trods for me?'

‘Not at this point, James. My explorations of the moors have been rather few recently. I really must get myself out to find more troughs.'

‘I discovered a new trod only last week, Montague. It stretches for five miles from the coast towards Rosklethorpe, but there is less than three miles of stone flags left. I think the rest have been stolen for building operations or covered up during road construction. But it's a new find – it was discovered under the heather after some controlled moor burning.'

‘Then I trust you will make a note of its whereabouts!'

‘You know I will, Montague. It's one more for the book that I promise myself I will write one day. Fully illustrated of course, like your book on troughs. So how can I help you?'

‘It's a highly confidential enquiry, James.'

‘I guessed as much, with you coming through on the secure phone.'

‘It's this – do you know of a former fire officer – retired or otherwise – by the name of John C. Furnival. I am not sure what the C stands for. He's around fifty give or take a few years. And he says he held a senior rank in the Fire Service. A CRO check was carried out upon his appointment and nothing was known against him.'

‘His name doesn't ring any immediate fire bells, Montague! Did he serve in this county?'

‘I don't know but he doesn't sound like a Yorkshireman. He has one of those featureless accents. I think he would leave the service at least five years ago, maybe earlier. I don't know whether he retired on pension or left for other reasons. I've got to be very secretive about this enquiry so I can't use established sources.'

‘I understand. Can you give me an hour or so? I'll check in our official almanac and also our list of current pensioners. The almanac lists every fire station in England and Wales, with the names of all their senior personnel currently serving and what posts they occupy. We keep previous years' copies on our shelves. If he is, or has been, one of us, he will be there, Montague. And now, of course, those details are kept on our computers. It won't take long. I'll call you back later today.'

‘Thanks, I appreciate it.'

When he rang off, Pluke checked the next name on his list: Mrs Sarah Allanby. A widow in her 50s, she was the secretary of Crickledale Volunteer Carers but rarely if ever went out to care for the clients. A local woman, she was purely an administrator and so Pluke wondered if Mrs Plumpton knew anything about her. He buzzed her on his intercom.

‘Ah, Mrs Plumpton, you are a fountain of all local knowledge so do you know anything about Mrs Allanby who works for CVC?'

‘I do know her, Mr Pluke, but only as an acquaintance rather than a friend. She is a local woman who lives in a nice terrace house along Newton Lane, her husband worked in York, something to do with one of those insurance companies in those big offices that used to be near the railway station, I believe. He travelled in every day by bus and she has always done clerical work in offices at Crickledale or nearby, sometimes on a part-time basis. She said she always wanted to share her free time with her husband. Unfortunately he died very young, cancer I think, but she has a good pension from his employment and is comfortably off. She has no children, Mr Pluke, which saddens her. She does a lot of charity work, you'll often see her collecting funds for everything from Save The Children to Yorkshire Cancer Relief
.
A very nice lady indeed.'

‘Well, I couldn't have asked for a more comprehensive account! Thank you. And clearly, that brings me to the two professionals and all the other volunteers. All are Crickledale residents, so how about them? You've got the list.'

‘Yes, it's on my screen, Mr Pluke. I've met the two professionals quite often, socially as well as in their former places of work. Mrs Frankland used to work in the Crickledale Building Society as a receptionist, and she lost her job when it was taken over by one of the big names. Halifax, I think. I know nothing against her, Mr Pluke.'

‘And Mrs Jarvis?'

‘She's in her early forties, I would say, and she used to work in the Brewer Brothers department store here in Crickledale, moving from counter to counter.'

‘That could be where I have seen her!' remarked Pluke.

Mrs Plumpton continued, ‘Quite possibly. I've always bought my clothes there, you know, she always gave me good advice on how to make myself more attractive . . . and then I once saw her on the perfume counter, then in the furniture department . . . she moved around quite a lot. Her husband left her for another woman, fortunately there were no children. Then she left Brewer Brothers very suddenly.'

‘Why was that? Do you know?'

‘There was talk, Mr Pluke. It began when her husband left her. Money going missing . . . cash from tills . . . nothing was ever proved and there was no court case or police involvement. She was asked to resign. Even though nothing was proved against her, word got around town as it does on these occasions. She couldn't get work and I think she's on benefits now. She rents a house on that big council estate at the West End and occupies herself with CVC. I believe she is very good in her dealings with the elderly. There is just a hint that she was entirely innocent – another employee was later caught with her hand in the till and sacked.'

‘So how did Mrs Jarvis cope with that?'

‘She had to live with that reputation. As they say, mud always sticks.'

‘This could be relevant, Mrs Plumpton. So what about the other volunteer carers? They're all part-timers, I believe, working when they are required . . . in this case, I think you had better come into my office and we will discuss these face-to-face. I'll call Detective Sergeant Wain to join us.'

He pressed Wayne's intercom button; he was in his office from wherever he had been and Pluke asked him to join them immediately.

‘Well, Mr Pluke, I can tell you something about that Mr Parkinson who is on the list.'

‘Then let's get started the moment Wayne arrives.'

‘Ooh, you are impetuous, Mr Pluke. . . .'

Then Pluke's secure phone rang. It was a call from James Russell.

‘Hi Montague,' came his breezy voice. ‘You certainly set me a right puzzle here. I've been through all our records past and present, including the national list of Fire Service pensioners, and your Mr Furnival is not shown anywhere. All I can say is that he has never been a member of the Fire Service in England and Wales. We do have links with Scotland and I did a check there – same result, Montague. He's not known to any of the Fire Service Headquarters in Britain. You could always try overseas but I have no idea where to suggest you start. Is it a false name? Can you check his passport? Immigration Office?'

‘I'll have words with our Special Branch,' said Pluke. ‘They might have the means of tracing such a person. But thanks very much indeed for your help.'

‘It's a pleasure, Montague. Now you owe me the discovery of another trod.'

‘I will do my best.' And Pluke rang off.

Wayne Wain then entered the office and noticed Pluke's rather glum expression.

‘Ah, Wayne. Glad you're here. Please join us,' and so the sergeant settled on a chair near Pluke's desk. ‘I have a very difficult task for you – this afternoon.'

‘Something wrong, sir?'

‘There are two things, Wayne. I have just been told that the man in charge of Crickledale Carers might have a secret past; that means he must be closely investigated. And the second thing is that I fear it is time for you to do something I will not be allowed to do. It is time to interview Mrs Pluke.'

‘To establish her innocence?' asked Wayne.

‘To establish the truth, Wayne.'

Chapter 16

‘L
et's start with
Mr Furnival, Wayne,' began Pluke. ‘The short question is that he claims to be a former senior fire officer but there is no record of his recent service in this country. Any thoughts on that?'

‘If he was an auxiliary – a part-timer – he would never become a senior officer, would he? And his part-time membership wouldn't be recorded, would it?'

‘It should be somewhere in the system, Wayne, probably buried very deep in some dusty old files, but not available to the public. There's an official almanac, produced annually, and back copies have been checked by my contact. It lists officers of high rank – but Mr Furnival's name is not there. It should be. In spite of that, he gave the impression he is a retired former full-time fire officer of high rank.'

‘Could he have slipped through the net, sir? Was his name omitted by accident? These things can happen. Or is he one of those conmen who apply for top jobs, and often get them?'

‘We've also checked the fire officers' pensioners' pay lists, Wayne, he's not there either. And that contains every paid pensioner, irrespective of rank.'

‘So if he's not in any of our British lists, is it possible he could have returned to Britain after service overseas? We've got to think like that, we live in a global world now, not an island community. Anyway, couldn't we question him discreetly? Be devious – you're very good at that. Chat to him about his success in moulding Crickledale Carers into such a successful and effective organization whilst persuading him to reveal more about himself? Or has he done time in prison? You know the sort of thing – a murderer released on licence under a new identity?'

‘We would have been informed if such a person was living within our area,' Pluke reminded Wayne. ‘Furnival will only reveal what he wants us to know.'

‘Then it means we must investigate him – initially without him being aware of what we're doing.'

‘You've had experience in Special Branch, haven't you, Wayne?'

‘Yes but not for very long. Two years in fact. I could arrange an interview with him as a follow-up to our chat about his carers.'

‘I was thinking of any contacts you might have had in, say, the Immigration Office or the police forces of our ports and airports. I think that would be a good means of finding out his overseas past, and to check whether his identity is false.'

‘I can try but I'd rather talk to him first, to establish a few known truths that we can use as key-points in our research. In talking to him, I would continue the theme about his staff not understanding when a call to the police was unnecessary. I'd refer to that Home Office initiative we talked about; I don't know how you came up with that idea, sir, but it was perfect for that occasion. And I could be wired up?'

‘Wired up?'

‘Yes, I could conceal a miniature voice recorder about my person so we can get everything he says on tape without me spoiling things by openly taking notes.'

‘All right, if he is being devious then so can we. I agree to your plan, Wayne, at a time to suit you. And don't forget – there's nothing proven against him and so your interview might eliminate him, and his organization, from our enquiries. We'd then have to reappraise our cold-case review. Furthermore, if we do establish that he's a confidence trickster or someone operating under a false identity, it doesn't mean he's a killer. Do bear all that in mind.'

‘I will and there's no time like the present. I'll start now. So was there anything else?'

‘I wondered whether you have been able to cast your eyes down the list of volunteers. As the main detective on the ground, one who is out-and-about in Crickledale, you might have more local knowledge of those people than I.'

‘I do know some of them, and among them are those whom I would not trust one inch let alone with my cherished belongings. Eileen Baker, for example, was a chambermaid at Crickledale Manor Hotel and I happen to know she was asked to leave because, on more than one occasion, guests reported things missing from their rooms when she was on duty. I was called in on one occasion but because there was no proof against her, she was asked to resign – which she did. She was never prosecuted. I couldn't prove the case against her. And, of course, Fiona Grainger was suspected of stealing Mr Lindsey's gold watch but no one was interviewed about that. To be honest, I doubt if any of the carers have snowy white characters. We've all got secrets, sir.'

‘Except Mrs Pluke,' interjected Mrs Plumpton.

‘Of course,' agreed Wayne. ‘I hadn't forgotten about interviewing her, but the opportunity hasn't arisen. It's not going to be easy. . . .'

‘If anyone can do it, it's you, Wayne!' smiled Pluke. ‘As soon as possible.'

‘I'll cope, but right now, I'm more interested in Furnival. If the barrel full of apples is rotten right to the top, it would seem a good idea to have someone within the organization who is pure and unsullied, like Mrs Pluke. Her presence as a volunteer carer must provide an air of confidence to the people of Crickledale. You'd think the behaviour of dodgy ones would have been noticed, wouldn't you? Mrs Pluke might have done so and now be bearing a mighty burden of knowledge she daren't reveal.'

‘She could always discuss things with me, Wayne.'

‘No she can't, you're the town's senior detective. If there was a criminal operating within the carers, she would realize you would be duty bound to expose him or her, at the cost of massive publicity. And we can't overlook the possibility that she was recruited to give the whole organization an air of respectability.'