A Full Churchyard (4 page)

‘Can you explain, Wayne? I need to be convinced.'

‘At first sight, it did look as if she had been attacked by an intruder and it was pure chance that I happened to be there. Taking everything into account, I believe there was, and still is, an element of suspicion about the case.'

‘You've not explained things very clearly, Wayne. If you say you nursed an element of suspicion, why wasn't her death categorized as suspicious? Why wasn't it investigated?'

‘There was an investigation but it was a normal and very routine sudden-death enquiry which determined she had died from natural causes. It meant there was no police interest from that point. And that's all that was done.'

‘So when did this death occur? I still can't understand why I wasn't aware of it.'

‘It was about three years ago, you were on annual leave, sir. You went to Siena and later found the missing Golden Horse Trough that was associated with that big horse race around the market square, the
Palio
. I think you were away for nearly three weeks. It was all over by the time you returned. In any case, there was no reason why you should have known about Miss Croucher's death.'

‘That must explain it, Wayne. If you had been concerned, you would have talked it over with me. But, as you say, I was in Italy. It was quite wonderful, a holiday to treasure. So Miss Croucher's death, even though you found it puzzling, was not considered a matter I should have been made aware of upon my return to duty?'

‘No. The duty town inspector decided no further action should be taken. The file was closed. It's stuck in my memory because one of the funeral directors also thought it was odd . . .'

‘Which director? Can you remember?'

‘Not off the top of my head, no. But I expect his name will be in the file.'

‘We'll find it if we need it. So in what way did he mean
odd
?'

‘I think he was talking about all those open windows and unlocked doors and the fact she was lying on her back in her nightie on the pantry floor with no sign of an attack or break-in. It was probably a combination of those factors but the funeral director never explained what he meant by
odd.
He couldn't explain – I think he was relying on his instinct. Perhaps it was nothing more than a passing comment? Something said spontaneously without much thought? But I couldn't forget it had come from a person who was very experienced in dealing with dead bodies. In spite of all that, Miss Croucher's death was treated like any other routine sudden death, with no suspicious attached. The undertaker's men removed her body to their chapel of rest and she was eventually buried in Crickledale churchyard. Her cousins who lived in Suffolk came to the funeral but she had never married and had no local dependants. She wasn't wealthy even if she owned her own cottage; I doubt if there was anything in her house of interest to thieves.'

‘You said she was elderly?'

‘Yes. 89 and very frail although not suffering from any serious illness. Her funeral was a quiet affair. The house was willed to her neighbours, the folks living at Weaver's Cottage next door. West was their name. They've now knocked both cottages into one large property.'

‘You said you were involved, Wayne? Why was that? It seems an unlikely case for a CID officer to deal with. Uniform deal with routine sudden deaths.'

‘Sergeant Cockfield-pronounced-Cofield received a call to say a woman was lying dead on the ground floor of her cottage with all the doors and windows open. He despatched PC Grant Carey to make an immediate investigation because the address was on his beat.'

‘And then what?'

‘By chance, I was walking past Tiler's Cottage when PC Carey arrived. It was about 10 am. I stopped for a chat and he told me a neighbour had rung to say Miss Croucher had been attacked in her own home. Because it had all the signs of a suspicious death, I asked if I could help him. There was no need to break in. Both the back door and front door were standing open as they were when the neighbour found her.'

‘Unlocked doors wouldn't be unusual in Crickledale at that time of day, would they? You said it was around ten in the morning.'

‘It was, on a nice warm day. But those doors weren't merely unlocked, they were standing open. I could also smell smoke or soot and thought she'd been cleaning or airing the house . . . anyway, PC Carey asked if I could help him by having a look at the scene – in case it was a crime scene.'

‘Did he say why he wanted help?'

‘He was a young constable. He felt he needed support in case there was something suspicious or evidence he might not notice. After all, he had been told the woman had been attacked and it was the first time he'd dealt with a suspicious death so I agreed. In any case, scenes of death are always of interest to a detective.'

‘One is never off duty, Wayne, one is always alert to the possibility of serious crime even in the most innocent of circumstances. You did the right thing.'

‘I had a good look around. She was lying on the old pantry floor in her nightdress. She was on her back with her hands crossed over her stomach with her legs straight out.'

‘Very neat – folks who collapse and die don't normally arrange themselves so neatly, do they? And neither do victims of murderous attacks.'

‘They don't. I didn't think she'd collapsed or tripped, she was far too tidy for that. It was just as if she'd been arranged for burial. Then I realized all the windows were open around the house, upstairs and downstairs – the pantry had no windows.'

‘And you said the doors were wide open?'

‘Standing open, yes. My first examination showed there were no signs of forcible entry or attacks on either Miss Croucher or the house. I told PC Carey that I saw nothing suspicious even if the circumstances were extremely peculiar and I advised him to call a doctor. After all, she could have opened her own doors and windows. I explained to PC Carey what he should do next and once I was satisfied that he could deal with the matter, I left him and took no further part in that investigation. So far as I'm aware, it was never established how she managed to get downstairs – she had had one of those stair-lift chairs and I noticed it was at the top of the stairs, not the bottom as you'd have expected.'

‘So PC Carey dealt with it as a routine sudden death?'

‘Yes but he was supervised throughout by the town's duty sergeant. Being such a young constable, he wouldn't have been left entirely alone to deal with that.'

‘Hmm,' frowned Pluke. ‘I agree there's something odd about this one. I'll need to study the file.'

‘Some time ago, sir, you explained about the ritual opening of windows and doors when death occurs, but at that time I couldn't recall the full implications. Sadly you weren't there to have a look at the scene.'

‘I would have wanted a lot more questions answered.'

‘There were several I asked myself. How had she got downstairs with her stair-lift left at the top? Her bed had the covers in place if she had never slept in it. Her breakfast things were on the kitchen table, untouched, as if she'd put them out the previous evening but not used them. And when, exactly, had she come downstairs? Was it in the dark? The lights were not on in the house when I entered.'

‘This gets more intriguing . . .' muttered Pluke.

‘My thoughts exactly. And there's more. How did she come to be lying there so sedately – at peace, in fact? Those were the sort of things a detective would – and should – notice. The sort of things that needed answers. I did wonder whether a villain had attacked her and sent her stair-lift back upstairs, then straightened the bed covers to give the impression she'd never been in bed.'

‘Thanks, Wayne. That's a neat summary and I think this is perfect for a cold-case review. Now I need to know more about it.'

‘This will put my mind at rest, I've often worried that a killer might have got through the net.'

‘Then let's not waste any more time. Do you want to continue in here or shall we find somewhere more private?'

‘I would suggest somewhere more private,' Wayne was thinking of Mrs Plumpton's flapping ears but she was on the phone, something to do with a query from Headquarters about a shotgun certificate.

‘Right, follow me and bring that file.' Pluke rose to his feet but did not don either his hat or his coat as he led the way downstairs to the interview room. It was part of the cell block. Without any prisoners or recently arrested persons, it would be quiet in there.

When passing the Control Room doorway, Pluke addressed Sergeant Cockfield-pronounced-Cofield.

‘DS Wain and myself will be in the interview room for half an hour or so, nicely away from flapping ears, Sergeant. I mention that in case someone needs to know our whereabouts – but we shall be discussing confidential matters so kindly do not disturb us unless it is an emergency.'

‘Very good, sir.'

When they were settled at the small table with the thick door closed, like an interrogator and his victim, Pluke invited Wayne to proceed.

‘I've taken a photocopy of the file, sir, so you can examine the original drawings, statements and house-plans. There are copies of official photographs taken at the time, Dr Simpson's certificate and a resume of the scientific investigation of the house interior.'

‘Scientific investigation? So there
was
an official enquiry?'

‘Only because at the time, it was thought the death was suspicious. The examination, done by Scenes of Crime officers, was nothing more than preparation of the file for the coroner. He accepted Dr Simpson's opinion that death was from natural causes, so no further action was necessary. There was no post mortem or inquest and the coroner issued a burial certificate.' He handed Pluke the secondary file.

‘In spite of our procedures failing to confirm there was suspicion, Wayne, I agree there's cause for concern. It was never established how the poor woman had come to be on the cold floor of her pantry or why her windows and doors were wide open. Every detail is vital, so can you please outline the entire case once more? I need to know all the facts before I decide how to tackle our cold case review.'

Wayne Wain reminded Pluke that Miss Adelaide Croucher, a spinster aged 89, had lived all her life at Tiler's Cottage, March Street, Crickledale; the cottage had belonged to her parents and she had inherited it. There were no other members of the family and Miss Croucher had worked in the local printers in the town centre, mainly with secretarial work interspaced with some proof reading and editing. She had no mortgage and existed on her old-age pension, her savings and a tiny pension from her former employer. She was not wealthy and hardly a target for burglars and thieves.

Throughout her long life she had never suffered a serious illness, but in recent years had become increasingly frail and unable to cope with stairs or the walk into town to do her shopping. She had had a chair-lift fitted to her staircase. She didn't own a car or invalid carriage and depended heavily on the support of carers from Crickledale Volunteer Carers (CVC), one of whom was Mrs Pluke. Their volunteers and her neighbour – also a CVC volunteer carer – called regularly to ensure she was never without food or essentials such as firewood and coal. The carers also did her washing, ironing and household cleaning. Miss Croucher could cope with routine and less-demanding work. It was the more strenuous activities that defeated her – such as taking a bath, making her bed or changing a light bulb.

‘The Carers in CVC are very good, as you know,' confirmed Wayne. ‘The organisation is run under the auspices of Crickledale District Council with a chairman, secretary and two full-time professional Carers who actually run the organisation and make assessments of those who may be in need of care. The chairman is a fairly recent arrival – within the last five years or so – and he seems to have got it functioning very successfully.'

‘He's called Mr Furnival, according to my wife,' smiled Pluke.

‘I know nothing about Mr Furnival, but most of the active carers are volunteers and much of their care is of a routine nature – helping with meals, shopping, cleaning, making beds. Furnival arranges and supervises their duties. The volunteers are unpaid and live locally so they become known to the person in their care. In addition, of course, the professional carers tend minor injuries and sickness, help the patients to get bathed or showered, or simply washed and dressed. It's a two-tier system that works well as I'm sure you understand from Mrs Pluke's involvement.'

‘She enjoys the work, Wayne,' smiled Pluke. ‘She feels she is putting something back into the community. Thanks to her, I know a good deal about the carers and their work. There are plenty of them to share the load. There's a call-out system too – if a client needs urgent help, they can press a button on a bleeper worn around the neck and also on their telephone. The bleeper alerts the CVC duty member of staff either in the CVC office or at home out-of-hours. The duty controller can then alert one of the volunteers who will respond. The carers also carry official mobile phones when on duty, with a free tele-phone link with the CVC office – just a matter of pressing one of the red buttons. Mrs Pluke assured me it has become very well run and highly professional, thanks to Mr Furnival.'

‘Perhaps I should point out that when Miss Croucher died, sir, Mrs Pluke was in Italy with you. She may know very little about Miss Croucher's death.'

‘That explains why she has never mentioned it,' affirmed Pluke.

‘Right, that's about all. It's the background to the case and full details are in the file.'

‘One minor point, Wayne. You said that after seeing Miss Croucher's body, you found that her bed was made? As if she hadn't slept in it?'

‘Yes. I wondered if she had never been upstairs to bed. Got ready perhaps, then collapsed. Or had a visitor.'