A Full Churchyard (8 page)

‘If there is someone at work, we'll find him or her or them.'

‘So do you need me here, Wayne, or can you cope alone?'

‘I'll be fine, working alone.'

‘Exactly what sort of common factor are you looking for, Wayne? I doubt if things like open windows or deaths on cold floors will be recorded in registry files.'

‘I don't know what I'm looking for until I find it. Serial killers work in odd ways.'

‘Then I shall leave you to your research, Wayne, and go back in my office. If you can give me a print-out of all these official records over ten years, I'll go through them as well, just to see if I can find some common factors.'

‘No sooner said than done, sir. I've already printed a duplicate set. You can take them with you now. I haven't examined them but I hope you come across something!'

‘Thanks, Wayne. We do seem to be going around in rather tight circles right now, we need a breakthrough if we're to make any progress.' Pluke reached out to touch the wood of the desk upon which Wayne was working. ‘Touch wood,' he smiled. ‘That's a really good means of obtaining good fortune and great success, Wayne. You should try it.'

And with his mind full of new information, Pluke left.

Chapter 6

M
rs Plumpton heard
Detective Inspector Pluke settling down at his desk and allowed him a few moments to compose himself. Walking in with her arms full of files, she smiled and stooped low to place them before him.

‘Whilst you were out, Mr Pluke, and in view of your decision to carry out a cold-case review, I've checked via our computer all our CID crime files over the past year to see if there are any major undetected cases of serious crime. I've also included minor crimes dealt with by the uniform branch but which remain undetected.'

‘That's very commendable, let's hope your initiative leads to a breakthrough. So have you found anything of interest?'

‘I agree that our CID office has no unsolved major crimes,' she beamed. ‘That's an enviable record. However, there are many minor reported crimes that are more of a matter of record without having precious time spent on them as fruitless investigations. Inspector Horsley considered the matters too minor to involve expensive police investigations. As we are aware, some small crimes are reported merely to obtain a crime number so that the loser's insurance companies will compensate the loss; those are also listed as undetected.'

‘Surely those are the concern of the town duty inspector, not me?'

‘Of course but among all those unsolved minor crimes, I've found one of considerable interest!'

‘Really? I must hear this but do you think we should wait until Detective Sergeant Wain returns? I'd like him to hear what you have to say.'

‘Yes, of course, Mr Pluke,' and there was a hint of disappointment on her face as she placed the file in his in-tray. She had expected more interest from him.

‘Thank you, Mrs Plumpton. We will deal with it as soon as we can, I assure you. Right now I need you to retrieve all files dealing with sudden deaths that have been dealt with at this station during the past ten years. I need cases that have been subjected to normal “sudden death” enquiries by the uniform branch whether or not they were followed by a post mortem or an inquest. And of course, I need the files of any deaths that were investigated by CID officers on the grounds they were initially considered suspicious, even if they were later proved not to be so.'

‘Yes, of course, Mr Pluke,' and she drifted from his office to carry out his instructions. She thought he was being very masterful at the moment but she was determined to explain her own successful detection work. She regarded it as important.

Alone for a few minutes, Pluke flicked through the pile of forty or so files she had left in his in-tray. Although these cases appeared in the statistics of Crickledale Police Station, they had not been dealt with by CID officers – they included reports of thefts of sweets from shops, handbags and purses stolen from parks, gardens and supermarket trolleys, tools taken from open garden sheds, thefts from cars left unlocked while parked, thefts of garden gnomes – all minor crimes that would be recorded but not necessarily investigated.

However, the additional file that Mrs Plumpton had left had been highlighted by her. He picked it up to read. It concerned a reported theft from a dwelling house. He was surprised that this had not been recorded as burglary although a quick glance through the papers showed some official uncertainty about its category. The stolen object was a gent's gold watch on a gold bracelet, and the victim was Mr Edgar Lindsey who, at the time of the crime, had been 89 years old. He lived alone, his wife having died some years earlier.

His son had reported the crime because his father's watch had vanished from the house but the precise time and manner of its disappearance could not be ascertained due to the old man's poor memory and delicate state of mind. There was a possibility he had lost it in his garden or perhaps whilst pottering around town or doing his shopping. The report had been dealt with some eight months ago during the summer – last June in fact – when the old man might have spent some time out of doors. The town's uniform branch had made enquiries and the disappearance of the watch had been recorded as a crime in case it reappeared in a car-boot sale, flea-market or antique dealer's shop. An entry had also been made in the Lost Property Register in case the watch was found in the street or elsewhere, and handed in at a police station. Pluke was somewhat amazed that this should be recorded as a crime when to all intents and purposes it was a watch that had been lost or misplaced by its elderly owner.

No doubt the town inspector had had his reason for recording it as a crime rather than lost property. Pluke was angry as he realized this was why the crime figures appeared to be so high – most of the alleged ‘stolen' property actually consisted of lost items. He was fully aware of the desirability to record lost objects as ‘stolen' because they were then allocated a crime reference number so that claims could be made from insurance companies. On the other hand, stolen goods that were recorded as lost property meant the crime statistics were maintained at a reduced level and that made the police look efficient.

But why did Mrs Plumpton think he would be particularly interested in this case? She hadn't explained so he put it on one side. He'd discuss it later. Before doing anything else, Pluke settled down to take another closer look at the file on the death of Miss Adelaide Croucher.

It contained transcripts of the original messages but no sound recordings or computer print-outs. He read them carefully. The initial alarm had not been raised via a 999 emergency call, he noted. The caller had used Miss Croucher's own household telephone. The transcript read:

‘Hello, this is Rachel West from Weaver's Cottage, that's in March Street, can you come quickly, please, my neighbour has been attacked. I'm calling from her house.'

‘How serious is the attack?'

‘The worst, she's dead.'

‘Can you be sure of that?'

‘She's stiff and cold and didn't respond in any way. . . .'

‘Have you called the doctor?'

‘No, I couldn't see the point. As I said, she's dead.'

‘Where is she now?'

‘Where I found her, in her utility room. Lying on the floor in her nightdress. That's Tiler's Cottage in March Street. I live next door.'

‘You're at the victim's house now?'

‘Yes, I thought I should stay here, the doors are all open. I have a key but didn't need to use it.'

‘All right. Don't touch anything. I'll have an officer with you within a very few minutes. PC Grant Carey is patrolling that area. Could you wait outside the front door to show him what you have found? Can he gain entry to the house? We need everything to be exactly as you found it and don't let anyone else in.'

‘I haven't touched anything but all the doors and window are open.'

‘So is there any indication of a forced entry?'

‘No, none.'

‘And signs of an intruder – drawers hauled out, smashed windows, wrecked property, any other damage, blood on the victim . . . that sort of thing?'

‘No, nothing like that. Nothing at all.'

‘So it may be a natural death? Perhaps she collapsed? We will call a doctor and we will attend within a very few minutes.'

There was nothing more of interest in the file, but he spotted something in the background of the police photograph of her bedroom. A bath towel was hanging over the dressing table mirror, obscuring the glass. So had she placed it there to be convenient? Perhaps to dry it after washing her hair or face? He now scanned the other internal photographs of the house – and in the front lounge he saw that the mirror over the fireplace had been turned around to face the wall.

What a blessing Wayne had recognized the irregularities in Miss Croucher's supposed ‘natural' death, otherwise crucial evidence would have been lost. As he scrutinized the remaining photographs, they emphasized the well-kept and clean condition of her house but also confirmed that when the body was found, all doors and windows had been standing wide open. Not merely unlocked but standing open. To some observers that would have been perfectly natural if someone had been cleaning or airing the premises, or it might have indicated a very hot day with attempts to gain some fresh air. But
all
the windows? Upstairs and down? In winter? There were only two doors – one at the back and one at the front – and they were standing open too.

Pluke was becoming more convinced that this was not a natural death. But how could he prove his theory? One way was to discover more about what had happened to Miss Hullott and compare the circumstances.

From what Millicent had told him, there had been remarkable similarities between her death and that of Miss Croucher, although the critical difference had been that Miss Hullott's death had not been subjected to a police investigation. There would be no police file, no photographs, no evidence. Then Pluke recalled the undertaker who had expressed an opinion that Miss Croucher's death was, in his words,
odd.
Wayne hadn't had an opportunity to interview him yet but that task was now becoming very important.

Who was that undertaker? Could it have been someone from a distant town? If the fellow was local, had he also dealt with Miss Hullott's funeral? Could that be a common factor? There were several undertakers in Crickledale, but it wouldn't be too difficult interviewing them all without spreading alarm around the town. And could Linton Farewell, the gravedigger, have been involved? Or his chimney-sweeping colleague, Sooty Black? As Pluke pondered the best way of interviewing them without raising the spectre of a serial killer at large in the town, Wayne returned from the Registrar of Births, Deaths and Marriages. He strode into the office and announced, ‘Sir, I've found that common factor!'

‘Well done, Wayne? So what is it?'

‘When I checked the days – not dates – of death of the nine people who have died within the last few months, five were on a Thursday. So I checked further back and discovered that over the past two years, twelve occurred on Thursdays out of the twenty deaths recorded in Crickledale.'

‘Do you think that's significant?'

‘It could be, and there's more. Most were elderly women, although one or two men were on the list. And there were a couple of teenagers who were killed in a traffic accident.'

‘Did your friend at the Registrar's office give any indication of why so many are linked to a particular day of the week?'

‘I didn't ask, sir, I didn't want to spark off rumours. I reasoned it was up to us to find out.'

‘A wise decision. So how many of those twenty deaths were reported to the police? How many were thought to be suspicious?'

‘It's very difficult to determine merely from the Registrar's files but at a rough estimate, I'd say half of them. That's the impression I've gained after considering the delay between the dates of the deaths and the dates of the funerals.'

‘In other words, you're speaking of the time that's necessary to organize a post mortem or a police investigation?'

‘I am, yes. It means we must go through all our old files very carefully. From the Registrar's files, I've noted the names of those likely to be of interest so it's merely a case of checking one name against another.'

‘That seems simple enough. I agree. This revelation might be just what we need to justify our investigations. Well done. Your common factor theory has borne fruit.'

‘Why do I get the feeling we are about to uncover one of the worst cases of serial murder since Jack the Ripper?'

‘Because we are efficient police officers, Wayne. We form a good team.'

‘Like the killers, perhaps?'

‘Now that is a possibility! Indeed it is! I am so pleased you said that. I've been wondering how poor old Miss Croucher was man-handled downstairs. That would require a feat of considerable strength, probably impossible for a person working alone. So perhaps you're right. A
team
of killers is operating?'

‘On Thursdays?'

Chapter 7

T
he work of
locating and checking the relevant old files in the dusty loft would be time-consuming and dirty but, fired with determination to secure an answer to their suspicions, Pluke's small team set about their task. Even with the enthusiasm of Pluke, Wayne and Mrs Plumpton, it would take several hours, probably extending into tomorrow but they worked with a will until today's home-going time.

Before leaving, however, Pluke addressed them.

‘Sergeant,' he said to Wayne in his most serious voice. ‘I think you and I should attend Mrs Langneb's funeral tomorrow. It will be interesting to see who the mourners are, and who turns up for the funeral tea. We might become privy to local gossip about the spate of recent deaths. Unguarded gossip can be a good indicator of the genuine situation. And you might locate the undertaker you need to interview. It's important we chat with Rachel West to see how much she can recall about Miss Croucher's death – that might provide valuable guidelines as we assess other cases.'