The Ledbury Lamplighters (8 page)

‘Can you think of anyone who would have wanted your father dead?’ asked Ravenscroft, seeking to steer the conversation in another direction.

‘Half the town, Inspector, half the town,’ laughed Rupert.

‘Anyone in particular, Mr Montacute?’

‘Can’t think of anyone special. Look here, Ravenswood, how can you expect such a silly fellow as myself to remember important things like that?’

‘No, sir, I suppose not,’ said Ravenscroft, smiling and giving Crabb a sideways glance. ‘Can you remember, sir, where you were exactly in the room when your father collapsed?’

‘Fireplace. Yes, I remember, I was having a drink and talking to a pretty young lady by the fireplace when the lights went out.’

‘Who was that, sir?’ asked Crabb.

‘So your assistant does speak!’ said Rupert sarcastically.

‘Who was the young lady, sir?’ asked Ravenscroft firmly.

‘How the devil should I know? I’ve never seen her before. Wore a pink dress and had crooked teeth – that’s all I can remember.’

‘Thank you, Mr Montacute. We won’t detain you any longer,’ said Ravenscroft, moving towards the door.

‘Glad to have been of help, Inspector Ravenswood,’ said Rupert, beginning to make his unsteady way up the staircase.

‘Well, those two brothers are certainly different from one another,’ said Crabb as the two men walked away from The Gables.

‘Same father, different mothers.’

‘You could smell the drink on Rupert.’

‘Yes, he is rather “fond of the bottle”, as they say. I find it interesting that although Rupert was clearly the worse for wear at the Lamplighters’ Ball, and appears to remember little about everyday events, he was very quick to tell us exactly where he was standing when his father was poisoned – yet he can’t remember the name of the person who he was talking with,’ said Ravenscroft, deep in thought.

‘Very convenient, if you ask me,’ added Crabb.

‘Did you also notice, Crabb, how protective Mr Maurice Montacute was of his stepmother? On three separate occasions, he
interrupted my line of questioning when he thought I was being too bold with my enquiries.’

‘Could be something going on there, between Maurice and his stepmother?’ suggested Crabb.

‘You think Maurice might have killed his own father so he could inherit both the bank and his wife? That is a fascinating possibility, Crabb. So far in this case, the more people we question, the longer our list of suspects becomes—’

‘I think I can see one of the men from the station running in our direction, sir,’ interrupted Crabb.

‘Glad to have caught you, sir,’ said the breathless constable, coming to a halt. ‘Urgent message from Mr Catherwood. Can you come as quickly as you can, sir, to Dog Hill.’

‘Did Mr Catherwood say what he wanted?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘No, sir – only that I was to find you as quickly as possible and bring you in the direction of the hill, and that Doctor Andrews was to come as well.’

‘Then you best lead on, Constable.’

The three men made their way quickly towards the church. After walking through the churchyard, they turned the corner and joined the old trackway that gradually took them upwards, away from the town.

‘There’s Mr Catherwood, sir,’ indicated the constable, pointing ahead of them. As they drew near, one of Catherwood’s dogs began to bark at the group, until its master shouted the command for the animal to sit.

‘Good morning to you, Mr Catherwood,’ called out Ravenscroft.

‘Over here, man!’ Ravenscroft could see that Catherwood was standing near some of the undergrowth at the side of the track.

‘Found him not half an hour ago – or rather the dog did,’ said Catherwood, standing back.

Ravenscroft stepped into the snow-covered bracken and looked down at the ground.

‘What is it, sir?’ asked an inquisitive Crabb.

‘It appears to be the body of a man, lying face downwards!’ replied Ravenscroft. ‘You say the dog found him?’

‘Yes, we were out for a walk. Dog went off into the undergrowth and started barking and pawing at the ground. I came over and discovered the body.’

‘Did you touch anything?’ asked Ravenscroft, surveying the deceased.

‘No. I came straight to the station.’

‘You did right, Mr Catherwood.’

‘I told the constable to fetch Andrews as well,’ said Catherwood.

‘Thank you, sir, you acted correctly. Well, whoever he is, he has been here for quite a while, I would say. The fact that there is a thin layer of earth on top of him rules out death from any natural causes, and I would say that he died several days ago.’

‘Could be Leewood?’ suggested Crabb.

‘Maybe, but this fellow looks as though he was too well dressed, in this long overcoat, to be Leewood – and, anyway, why would anyone want to kill Leewood?’ replied Ravenscroft.

‘Sir, I think Doctor Andrews has arrived,’ interrupted the constable.

‘Good morning, Ravenscroft, Catherwood. What have we got here?’ said Andrews, hurrying over to where the body lay.

‘He was uncovered by Mr Catherwood’s dog, Doctor Andrews,’ said Ravenscroft.

‘I see,’ said Andrews, crouching down by the side of the body. ‘Can you give me a hand to turn him over?’

‘Constable, go to the station, get the cart and return with some men. We will need to move the body,’ instructed Ravenscroft, before he and Crabb knelt down by the side of the corpse.

The three men eased the body on to its back. ‘My God, he must have been here for quite a while!’ exclaimed Ravenscroft, taking a step backwards and bringing his handkerchief to his nose.

Crabb took one glance at the dead man and turned away quickly.

‘It looks as though he was hit on the forehead by something hard. Part of the skull and face have caved in,’ said Andrews, bending over the body. ‘By the state of him, I would say that he has been here for at least a week, possibly longer. The intense cold weather and snow have helped to preserve the body to a certain extent, though I see that some animal has been gnawing at his ears and nose. One eye has completely gone.’

‘What description do we have of Leewood?’ said Ravenscroft, addressing Crabb and quickly distancing himself from the body.

‘Approximately five feet two inches tall, stocky build, rugged appearance, deep scar on right cheek,’ replied Crabb, consulting his
pocket book.

‘What can you tell us about this man, Doctor?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘Not much without a proper examination, but I can at least tell you that this is not your escaped convict. This man must be over six feet in length, quite slender build, no sign of any scar on the face, and he looks far too well dressed to be an escaped prisoner,’ replied Andrews.

‘Have you ever seen the man before?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘If you mean was he one of my patients, then the answer is no. I have never seen him before. I would guess that he is probably not from around these parts.’

‘Thank you, Doctor. We’ll take him to the mortuary for a closer examination.’

Later that afternoon, Ravenscroft and Crabb stood in a cold, colourless room, staring down at the contours of the body that lay beneath a grey sheet.

‘Well, Doctor, now that you have completed your examination, what else can you tell me about the man?’ asked Ravenscroft, eager to know more about the mysterious stranger.

‘I don’t think I can add much to my initial examination. I would conclude that the age of the deceased was approximately forty years, fairly healthy for his years, no previous injuries – and that he was not a gentleman,’ replied Andrews, washing his hands in a bowl of red-coloured water.

‘Oh, why do you say that, sir?’ enquired Ravenscroft.

‘Although the deceased was well dressed, his attire, I would say, was more suited to the weather at this time of the year than due to any degree of wealth. In other words, although he dressed well, there was no show or display. His hands are quite rough but not unduly so, suggesting that although he was used to performing some manual labour he was not a common labourer. I would think that your unknown corpse was either a tradesman or servant, but someone of reasonable standing. The nature of the wound was quite severe, indicating that whoever struck him undoubtedly wanted to kill him. He certainly did not die as the result of a fall and hitting himself on a rock. Such was the force of the blow, he must have died straightaway. Your killer then dragged the body
into the undergrowth, but because of the nature of the terrain could only partially cover the body with some loose earth. He might have remained undiscovered for several weeks had the dog not uncovered him. I’m sorry I cannot tell you any more.’

‘Thank you, Doctor Andrews. You have been most helpful and informative. So, Crabb, who do you think our mystery man is?’

‘Not Leewood, that is for certain. Although I suppose the convict might have killed him? There are no papers or money in the pockets except for a few coppers.’

‘I don’t think this is the work of Leewood. Had the escaped convict come across this man and struck him on the head with the intention of robbing him, he would have taken the coins in his pockets. He would also have taken the overcoat in order to keep warm and to conceal his own appearance. No, I don’t think Leewood had a hand in this,’ said Ravenscroft.

‘I can see your reasoning, sir.’

‘There are no papers or documents of any kind on his person?’

‘No, sir. I’ve searched every pocket of his clothes. There is nothing at all.’

‘That is interesting. I would say that after our killer struck the victim on the head, and before his crude attempt to conceal the body, he must have gone through all the poor man’s pockets, making sure that anything that could possibly help us to identify the body was removed. Our killer wanted to make sure that nothing could be traced back to him. Robbery does not appear to have been the motive for the killing, as otherwise all the coins would have been taken along with the coat. No, our murderer meant to kill this man, not steal his valuables.’

‘What a way to die – struck on the head and then left out in the wild for the animals to feed on,’ muttered Crabb.

‘At least we can be certain of one thing. This man has been dead for at least a week. He cannot therefore have anything to do with old Montacute’s murder.’

‘Strange that it has been quiet for several weeks, sir, since your arrival in the town, then we have two bodies in two days!’

‘Too much of a coincidence, you think? Perhaps Montacute had something to do with this man’s death? I wonder. However, we cannot proceed further until we have found out more about the victim. Who was he – and why did he come to Ledbury?’ said
Ravenscroft, removing his spectacles and polishing them on his handkerchief.

‘If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’ll leave you to your deliberations,’ interrupted Andrews, putting on his coat.

‘Thank you, Doctor.’

Andrews left the room and closed the door behind him.

‘Why did he come to Ledbury? At Christmas as well,’ added Crabb.

‘Yes. Why Christmas? That is the intriguing thing.’

‘Coming home for the festive season to be reunited with friends and relations?’

‘But we have no reports of any missing persons at present.’

‘He could have been meeting someone important in the town?’

‘Yes, but why at Christmas?’

‘Perhaps he was not working over the holiday?’ suggested Crabb.

‘I think you have it, Crabb! This man came to Ledbury at Christmas because he was not employed over the festive season. Now, who could be given time off at Christmas?’ wondered Ravenscroft.

‘Schoolteachers?’

‘That is a possibility, although the coarse nature of his hands suggest that he was engaged in some light manual employment.’

‘Not tradesmen, or clergymen – it’s their busy time of the year.’

‘I agree. Servant? Andrews thought the man might have been a servant. Sometimes domestics are given a few days off at Christmas to visit relatives, although many are retained over the festive season by their employees. Then we have this coat. He was wearing a long, thick, expensive overcoat. That suggests to me that perhaps our mystery man was a servant who worked mainly out of doors.’

‘Like a coachman?’

‘Exactly! Our mystery man could have been a coachman. But all this is conjecture, of course, until we find out who he really is. Let’s go through his clothes again. There might just be something that our killer overlooked and forgot to take away with him. You take his trousers while I have another look at this expensive overcoat.’

‘There is nothing in the trousers, sir. I’ll go through his waistcoat pockets again,’ said Crabb.

‘This is interesting. There is a small hole in this pocket of the overcoat. I wonder if anything could have slipped through into the
lining? Give me those scissors, Crabb. Now, you hold the coat while I enlarge the hole. Right, that should do. Now let us see whether there’s anything inside,’ said Ravenscroft, running his hand between the lining and the outer layer of the coat. ‘Yes, I can feel something here. Feels like a small piece of paper. Ah, here we are. Damp and screwed up. Lay it on the table and we will see if we can unravel it.’

‘Looks like a ticket of some kind,’ offered Crabb.

Ravenscroft gently prised the coloured paper apart and then held it up to the light. ‘See here, Crabb – we have what looks like the remaining portion of a return railway ticket from London Paddington to Ledbury. So that is where he originated from. Our victim came from London, and had every intention of returning there, but was unfortunately murdered before he could undertake the return journey.’

‘At least we now know where he came from.’

‘Yes, Crabb, but we are really no further forward. London is a big place. We still don’t know who he was and what he was doing here. I suppose there is nothing else in his other pockets?’

‘Nothing,’ sighed Crabb.

‘Then we are at a loss again. All we can do now is make enquiries at the railway station, to see if anyone can remember him arriving in the town.’

‘Right, sir.’

‘Well, Tom, I think that is all we can usefully gain from this gentleman. Let’s be on our way.’