The Ledbury Lamplighters (5 page)

‘And what do you think of the present Mrs Montacute?'

‘Not for me to say, sir. Don't believe in tittle-tattle and all that nonsense,' replied the cook, adopting a defensive tone.

‘Indeed not, but nevertheless it could not have been easy for you to have had a new mistress,' suggested Ravenscroft, knowing that she would only need the slightest encouragement to become talkative once more.

‘Not like the old mistress.'

‘You mean Mrs Enid Montacute?'

‘Exactly, sir.'

‘Difficult?'

‘Very but I say no more,' said Mrs Chambers, leaning back in her chair.

‘Of course.'

‘She was not like Miss Enid. She were a real lady, if you take my
drift, sir,' replied the cook.

‘I understand.'

‘Knew how to behave in polite society, and how to treat her servants right, but then the present Mrs Montacute, she's young. She may grow into it.'

‘I'm sure she will. Can you think of anyone who would want to see Mr Nathaniel Montacute dead?' asked Ravenscroft, deciding to change his line of questioning.

‘No one, sir. Can't see why anyone would want to kill the master,' replied the cook, beginning to wipe her eyes once more.

‘Do not distress yourself, my dear lady. What did you do yesterday evening, Mrs Chambers, after the family left to go to the Lamplighters' Ball?'

‘Well, sir, as it was New Year's Eve, I sat here for a while, in that chair over there before the fire.'

‘Were you alone?' asked Ravenscroft.

‘Yes, most of the other servants had been given the evening off. They went to one of the inns in town to celebrate.'

‘But you remained here, Mrs Chambers?' asked Crabb, staring down at the large cake which lay on the sideboard.

‘I just said that. I sat in that chair,' said the old woman, becoming annoyed.

‘Quite, Mrs Chambers. Do you remember if anyone else entered the kitchen?' said Ravenscroft quickly.

‘No, I don't think so. Oh yes, Mr Rivers came in for a while, to take a dram and warm his feet.'

‘What time was that exactly?'

‘Just after eleven, I think.'

‘Can you be more precise?' said Ravenscroft, smiling.

‘Well, I suppose it was more like half past eleven.'

‘How long did Mr Rivers stay for?'

‘Why, I suppose about ten or fifteen minutes,' replied the cook with a puzzled expression on her face.

‘You could not tempt Mr Rivers to stay and see in the New Year with you?' said Ravenscroft, rising to his feet.

‘No. I thought he might have done so, what with it being the end of the old year and suchlike, but he said he had to go outside. He said there would be poachers about, what with all the lights being out in Ledbury.'

‘Thank you, Mrs Chambers. You have been most helpful to us. Please don't get up. We will see ourselves out.'

‘I hope you catch the villain that did this terrible thing, sir,' sobbed the cook.

Ravenscroft nodded as he and Crabb walked out of the kitchen.

‘Well, sir, looks as though our friendly gamekeeper does not have a good enough alibi,' remarked Crabb as the two men made their way back down the path at The Gables.

‘I find it strange that Rivers only came into the kitchen for ten or fifteen minutes, and did not remain there to see in the New Year with Mrs Chambers. Any other person would have taken full advantage of a good fire and a warm drink and remained indoors for longer than fifteen minutes. Either he was being over-zealous in his duties and really was on the lookout for some poacher or other, or—'

‘Or he slipped into town in the dark, and put the poison in Montacute's glass, then quietly slipped away again, without anyone noticing him,' interrupted Crabb, finishing Ravenscroft's sentence.

‘You could be right, Crabb. How long would it have taken him to have walked from The Gables to the Feathers? Five minutes if he hurried, ten at the outside but we are forgetting one thing, Crabb.'

‘Oh, what's that, sir?'

‘Rivers does not appear to have had any reason to kill his master. He had worked at The Gables for practically all his working life, as his father had done before him. What advantage could he have gained by killing off the old gentleman?'

‘Perhaps Mr Montacute had found out something about his gamekeeper and had threatened to sack him?' suggested Crabb.

‘And because Rivers did not want to lose his job, he killed his master? A possibility but I don't really see it at the moment. Tell me
what you thought of Mr Maurice Montacute.'

‘Not my kind of person, sir. Rather a dull old fish, but then I suppose most bankers are like that, when you come to think of it. Must be all that money – makes them old before their time.'

‘Did you notice, Crabb, how uneasy he became when I asked him about how well he got on with his new stepmother? He was quick to divert my line of questioning,' said Ravenscroft, closing the outer gate to The Gables behind him.

‘Probably did not entirely approve of his father marrying again?'

‘You could be right. To have lost one's mother, and a stepmother, only to acquire a further stepmother cannot have been easy. Maurice is unmarried, I believe, so when he is not up in London he normally resides at the family home, with his father, stepmother and stepbrother.'

‘At least the house is large enough to accommodate them all.'

‘You would have thought that Maurice would have married by now. With his wealth and position in society, he would have been what, I believe, the ladies call “a desirable catch”.'

‘Time enough yet, sir. Why look at yourself,' joked Crabb.

‘Enough of that,' said Ravenscroft, frowning. ‘This new will interests me. I wonder why the old gentleman had decided to revise his will only a month ago?'

‘Wanted to provide for his new wife?'

‘Maybe. We will need to attend the reading, to see who gains and who loses from Montacute's will. We may well find our reason for the murder there.'

‘Don't forget, sir, that the old banker was also a local beak,' said Crabb as the two men began to walk back into the town.

‘Yes, we need to have a look at the records to see who it was that caused all the disturbance in Montacute's court, and to find out what exactly transpired there, and where that person may be now.'

‘It could be a long job, sir.'

‘Then we best start before the morning is over.'

The two men made their way along the main street of the town until they reached a rather drab looking building, the front of which bore a large plaque with the words Magistrates Court engraved on it.

‘Perhaps there may be someone in here who can aid us in our research,' said Ravenscroft, closing the front door behind them and
ringing a large brass bell which he found lying on a table in the entrance hall.

‘Very fusty old smell in here, sir,' said Crabb, turning up his nose.

Presently their call was answered by a thin, elderly, bald-headed gentleman, who was wearing a suit that had seen better days. ‘Ah, good morning to you. I presume you are the clerk of the court?'

‘And you are Inspector Ravenscroft,' pronounced the clerk, peering over his spectacles.

‘I am indeed, and this is Constable Crabb – but how did you know?'

‘I was at the Lamplighters' Ball last night.'

‘Yes, of course, forgive me. There were quite a number of us there.'

‘Terrible business, sir,' said the clerk, shaking his head.

‘Indeed. Can you think of anyone who would have wanted to kill Mr Montacute? Sorry, you are?' asked Ravenscroft.

‘Simpson.'

‘Mr Simpson.'

‘Mr Montacute had been one of town's magistrates for nigh on twenty years. During that time he must have sentenced many of the local thieves and villains. Many of them will have accepted their sentences; one or two over the years may have felt particularly aggrieved,' replied Simpson.

‘Anyone who comes to mind?'

‘There was a particular nasty case some three or four years ago. One of the local villains by the name of Leewood. Came from a bad family. I think he was up on a charge of theft. There was never any doubt about his criminality. Mr Montacute found him guilty and sentenced him – but Leewood protested his innocence in quite forceful terms.'

‘How do you mean?' asked Ravenscroft.

‘Leewood tried to climb over the rails and attack Mr Montacute, saying he had not committed the crime and that he would get even with him one day.'

‘What happened next?' enquired Crabb.

‘Mr Montacute, he was having none of it, and quite right as well. He sent him down for a longer term. Perhaps you would like to see the records?'

‘That would be most helpful, Mr Simpson.'

‘This way, gentlemen. If you would care to follow me.'

Ravenscroft and Crabb followed the clerk down a long corridor and into a large room at the back of the building. Simpson walked over to a set of shelves on one of the walls and looked through a row of ledgers until he lifted one down which bore the year 1885 on its spine.

‘I think the event you are looking for occurred in this year, although it might be a year later,' said Simpson, turning over the pages of the large volume. Ravenscroft leaned over his shoulder, looking down at the pages of neat copperplate handwriting, while Crabb busied himself by casting an eye over the contents of the room.

‘Ah, here we are,' said the clerk presently, pointing to an entry on one of the pages.

Ravenscroft leaned forward and began to read. ‘12 June 1885. Joshua Leewood stands accused of stealing three shillings from the premises of John Freeman. Accused pleads not guilty. Evidence called from John Freeman and his servant Maggie Trubshaw who say they both saw accused take the money. Accused says he was elsewhere at the time of the theft. Accused found guilty and sentenced to three years' imprisonment with hard labour at Hereford gaol, by Mr Justice Nathaniel Montacute. Accused then attempted to assault bench but was restrained by officers and was then sentenced for a further three years on a charge of threatening behaviour.' Very interesting. So Leewood had his sentence doubled; he received six years in prison.'

‘That would seem to rule him out then in regard to this murder. I reckon he has another two years left to run on his sentence,' said Crabb.

‘Hmm, that would appear to be the case. I suppose there is always the possibility that Leewood was released early,' said Ravenscroft, looking up from the ledger.

‘Might have escaped?' suggested Crabb.

‘We need to find out what happened to Leewood. Crabb, send a telegram to the gaol in Hereford, asking what they can tell us about him. Mr Simpson, you have been most accommodating and informative. I don't suppose you can tell us anything more about this Leewood? You mentioned that he came from a bad family.
What exactly did you mean by that?'

‘The Leewoods have always been a bad lot in Ledbury for as long as I can remember. The father, Rufus, went inside several times, usually on counts of stealing and poaching and suchlike. He died about ten years ago. That's when Joshua took over.'

‘So this Joshua Leewood had been up before the magistrates before?' asked Ravenscroft, as the three men began to make their way to the front of the building.

‘I can think of at least three former occasions. Usually petty things – bit of stealing, the odd pheasant poached, that sort of thing,' replied Simpson.

‘So he had been sent to prison before?' asked Crabb.

‘He was usually fined but yes, he had been inside for a few months, a year or so before this incident,' replied Simpson.

‘You say the Leewoods were a problem family. Joshua Leewood was married?' asked Ravenscroft.

‘Yes, sir. There is a wife and several children, I believe. One or two, I regret to say, seem set to be going the same way as their father.'

‘Do you know where I can find these Leewoods?'

‘You might find them living up one of the alleys leading off the Homend. Probably Smoke Alley – used to be called Smock Alley – near the Horseshoes Inn.'

‘Thank you again, Mr Simpson,' said Ravenscroft, shaking the clerk's hand before closing the door and stepping outside. ‘Right, Crabb. Send your telegram to Hereford. I'll go and see if I can locate these Leewoods. We'll meet up in half an hour at the Feathers for lunch.'

‘As you wish, sir.'

The two men went their separate ways.

As Ravenscroft made his way up the Homend, light flakes of snow began to fall, giving the pavement a wet, slippery appearance. A short walk brought him to an alleyway which bore the words ‘Smoke Alley' at its entrance. He made his way down the darkened, uninviting passageway that ran between two buildings, avoiding the piles of rotting vegetables and dog excrement which lay on the cobbles, until he found himself standing in a courtyard where a collection of tall, ramshackle buildings on three sides cast dark shadows over the small, claustrophobic space. For a moment
Ravenscroft thought he was back once more in Whitechapel, until he reminded himself that he was in the country town of Ledbury and that the former darkened world he had previously known was but a distant memory. Nevertheless, a few seconds before he had turned away from the bustle of the Homend with its collection of fine Georgian buildings and half-timbered structures; now he was standing in what appeared to be a darker, more menacing world.

Adjusting his eyes to the darkness, he gradually noticed two small children staring up at him from the floor of the yard.

‘Can you tell me where Mrs Leewood lives?' he asked, bending over the children, observing that despite the cold weather, they wore no more than a collection of rags about their persons and that their feet were dirty and blood spattered.

The children remained silent, looking up at his eyes with blank expressions on their faces. Ravenscroft reached into his pocket and brought out a silver coin, which he held out in front of the eldest boy. ‘I want to see Mrs Leewood. Tell me where she lives—' he repeated in a louder voice.

The eldest ragged boy reached out to grab the coin but Ravenscroft quickly redrew it towards his chest. ‘Mrs Leewood?' he said firmly.

The second, younger boy looked at him with suspicion, and then pointed to the entrance to one of the buildings. Ravenscroft dropped the coin to the floor, and as the two boys scrabbled to retrieve their prize from the debris, he walked over to the old door and banged his fist on the wood.

He waited for a few seconds before knocking once more. The two urchins had recovered the coin and had run off laughing into one of the other buildings, slamming a door behind them.

Receiving no reply, Ravenscroft lifted the latch and pushed open the door. He called out, and strained his eyes to make out anyone or anything in the darkened room. A flickering candle on a table in the centre seemed to be drawing him inwards.

A sudden cough made him turn quickly.

‘I'm sorry. I did knock,' he said, closing the door behind him and drawing closer to the flame.

‘Who are you?' Again the cough.

‘My name is Ravenscroft. I'm an inspector with the local force,' he replied, making out the figure of an elderly, grey-haired woman,
who was wearing a dress and shawl and was seated in a wooden armchair.

‘What do you want?' said the woman, holding a hand to her face, attempting to stifle the cough.

‘I'm looking for Mrs Leewood,' Ravenscroft said hesitantly. As his eyes adjusted to the scene, he noticed that the table was covered with dirty plates and old newspapers. The room had the air of decay and dampness about it.

‘You've found her,' replied the hostile voice.

‘Mrs Joshua Leewood,' corrected Ravenscroft. He had expected Leewood's wife to have been much younger in years.

‘Joshua is my son,' coughed the old woman, drawing her shawl tightly around her shoulders and giving Ravenscroft a cold stare.

‘I was given to understand that your son's family lived here,' said Ravenscroft, taking out a handkerchief from his overcoat pocket and bringing it to his nose in an attempt to block out the foul smell that was being emitted from the kitchen sink.

‘His wife left two years ago, ran off with a tinker, after babby had died of the pox.'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘Nothing to be sorry about; he were better out of it.'

‘What happened to the other children?'

‘Don't know where they went. Somewhere in Ledbury,' replied the old woman, descending into a set of more prolonged coughs.

Something cold brushed against Ravenscroft's leg. He looked down quickly and was relieved to find it was only a black and white cat of a hungry, bedraggled appearance. ‘Where is your son, Mrs Leewood?' asked Ravenscroft, recovering his composure but nevertheless anxious to keep his distance from the figure in the armchair.