The Ledbury Lamplighters (12 page)

‘We will see. Good day, Mr Midwinter.’

‘Er, there is just one more thing before you go, Inspector. Something has been lying upon my conscience and disturbing me for a few days now. I wonder whether you could find the time to call upon me at my offices this afternoon, gentlemen?’

‘Yes, certainly, Mr Midwinter.’

‘It is rather difficult to talk here, you understand. Would two o’clock be convenient?’

‘Well, sir, and what did you make of the old banker’s will?’ asked Crabb, helping himself to another piece of cheese in the snug at the Feathers.

‘It was certainly a most interesting document. The only one who stands to benefit substantially from the will is Mrs Montacute. Maurice was quite clearly upset when he learnt that he had acquired neither The Gables nor his father’s money, although his share of the bank must amount to something. Poor Rupert stood to gain nothing from either the new will or the old will – and I wonder why his father treated him so harshly?’ replied Ravenscroft, warming his hands in front of the roaring fire.

‘Probably his father thought that Rupert would only drink away any monies left to him.’

‘Possibly but it was unusual for him not to have been provided for in some small way. It was almost as though the old man was punishing him for being his son.’

‘As neither of the two sons stood to gain by old Montacute’s death, there would have been no reason for either of them to have killed him,’ suggested Crabb, before taking a drink of his ale.

‘And likewise we can discount Rivers, Mrs Chambers and Major Onslow, as they only received small sums and had nothing to gain by Montacute’s death. Then there was Catherwood. Why the devil did he turn up for the reading? He surely cannot have expected anything from his old enemy. The pound he was left was clearly meant as an insult. No, as I said, the only person who stood to gain by Montacute’s death was his wife,’ said Ravenscroft, sitting down at the table and breaking a piece of bread.

‘You think she killed him?’

‘If she did, she would not have been the first wife who poisoned her husband in order to obtain his wealth – but she was clearly well situated and provided for by her husband and seems genuinely
saddened by his death. One can understand why the old banker changed his will so that his new young bride would be taken care of when he died. After all, Montacute was over sixty. No, I think you could say that none of the people present at the reading today would have killed old Montacute in the expectation of becoming richer as a result.’

‘With the exception of Catherwood,’ interjected Crabb.

‘Yes, I agree with you, Tom, but although Catherwood stood to gain nothing financially by the old man’s death, he could still have acted out or revenge or hatred.’

‘There is still Leewood.’

‘Indeed, yes, Leewood. Although I cannot see Leewood resorting to poison, he nevertheless cannot be ruled out until he has been secured and questioned. I had hoped that the reading of the will would have provided us with some indication as to who murdered old Nathaniel Montacute, but I have to confess that the mystery appears to grow cloudier with each hour that passes. We seem to be no further forward in our investigations than when we first began,’ said Ravenscroft, sighing and looking into the flames of the fire.

‘What I can’t understand, sir, is what has this man Robertson to do with all this business?’

‘If I knew the answer to that question, I’m sure I would be halfway to solving Montacute’s murder.’

‘I wonder what old Midwinter the solicitor wants with us?’ asked Crabb.

‘Perhaps he has some knowledge about the Montacutes to impart to us? Let us hope so. We could do with any assistance in this case. Anyway, it is not quite two yet – still time for another tankard, and that leg of cold lamb looks inviting!’

‘Do come in, gentlemen, out of the cold,’ said Anthony Midwinter, ushering his two guests into his office. ‘That will be all, Perkins, you may go now. See that we are not disturbed.’

‘Very well, Mr Midwinter,’ said the clerk, leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

‘You have a good view of the main street,’ said Ravenscroft, crossing over to the window and surveying the scene before him.

‘Do you know, I never look out of the window. I suppose I have been here for so many years I have long ago taken the view for
granted. Do please be seated, gentlemen,’ said the solicitor, seating himself behind his large desk.

‘Thank you, Mr Midwinter. You implied this morning that you had something to tell us – something which you said was troubling you?’ asked Ravenscroft, as he and Crabb each drew up a chair.

‘Yes indeed. I have been wrestling with my conscience for several days now.’

‘You have some information regarding the poisoning of Mr Montacute?’ said Ravenscroft hopefully.

‘Oh no, it is nothing to do with Nathaniel’s death. I am referring to the stranger, Robertson,’ said Midwinter, scratching his head.

‘You knew the man?’

‘Well, I may – or may not. I’m very sorry, Inspector. This is all rather confusing.’

‘Perhaps you should start at the beginning,’ suggested Ravenscroft, trying to put the troubled solicitor at his ease.

‘It was on Christmas Eve. Rather late in the afternoon. Perkins, my clerk, and I were just about to finish work when a gentleman, who was previously unknown to us, entered our office and asked if he might have a few words with me.’

‘Did this gentleman give a name, sir?’ asked Crabb, taking out his notebook.

‘No, I’m afraid not. In fact, he was rather anxious that he should not disclose his identity.’

‘Can you describe the gentleman to us, sir?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘Well, he was about forty years of age, I would say. Quite tall, slim build and he spoke with a London accent.’

‘How was he dressed?’

‘He was dressed in a long overcoat and hat, much the same as many other people at this time of the year.’

‘Can you tell us what this stranger wanted with you?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘He was most desirous of leaving a large packet of papers with me for safekeeping,’ said Anthony, leaning back in his chair and pausing for his words to take effect.

‘Please go on, sir,’ said Ravenscroft, giving Crabb a sideways glance.

‘He said I was to look after the envelope until his return on 1
May, when I would be rewarded for my trouble, and that if he did not return by that date, I was to take the envelope to the bank – Cocks and Biddulph – and give it to the senior partner there. I remember he was quite insistent on this latter point. I was to give the envelope to the senior partner, and to no one else.’

‘The senior partner in this case being Mr Nathaniel Montacute?’

‘Exactly.’

‘Did the gentleman say anything else, or give any other instructions?’ asked Ravenscroft, becoming more and more interested as the narrative unfolded.

‘That was all. Oh, he mentioned something about the papers being very important.’

‘Can you recall his exact words? They could prove important to our investigations.’

The old solicitor thought deeply for a moment or two. ‘I think his exact words were that the papers were of a private and sensitive nature, and that if their contents were revealed the very fabric of our society would be put at risk. Yes, I think that was what he said – or something very much like it.’

‘Thank you, Mr Midwinter, this is proving most interesting. May I ask where you have kept the envelope?’

‘In my safe, over there, gentlemen,’ replied Midwinter hesitantly.

‘I wonder whether we might examine the envelope?’

The solicitor rose from his desk, walked over to the safe, turned his key in the lock and swung open the heavy door. ‘Here we are, on the shelf, where I left it on Christmas Eve.’

‘May I examine the envelope?’ asked Ravenscroft, rising from his chair.

‘You may examine the outside of the envelope, Inspector, but at this time I cannot permit you to open the packet unless you can prove to me that the dead man Robertson was indeed the stranger that called on me. Without that confirmation, I am still bound to carry out my client’s instructions.’

‘Begging your pardon, Mr Midwinter, but your client is presently lying on a mortuary slab,’ said Crabb, looking up from his notebook.

‘Nevertheless, Crabb, at this stage we must appreciate Mr Midwinter’s caution. We have not yet proven that Robertson and
the gentleman who called here are indeed both the same man,’ said Ravenscroft.

‘Thank you, Inspector. If we establish that they are indeed the same man, then I would be bound to see that the dead man’s instructions are carried out.’

‘But Mr Montacute is dead,’ protested Crabb.

‘That is so, Constable, but Mr Maurice Montacute is now the senior partner, and as such we cannot open the envelope unless he is present,’ said Midwinter, giving Crabb a stern look. ‘My instructions in this case were made quite clear to me – the envelope was to be given to the senior partner of the bank, and to no one else.’

‘Of course, Mr Midwinter, we appreciate your predicament. It would not contravene your ethical code, however, if I was to just examine the outside of the packet?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘No, I suppose that would be in order, Inspector,’ replied the solicitor, handing the large brown envelope to Ravenscroft.

‘I wonder if you would mind if I took it over to the window? The light is better there,’ requested Ravenscroft.

‘I see no problem in that.’

Ravenscroft walked across to the window and held the package up to the light. He turned it over two or three times in his hands as a bewildered Crabb looked on. ‘I see there are two initials written in the corner: A and V. You have no idea what these letters mean, Mr Midwinter?’

‘I’m afraid not, Inspector. My client offered no inclination as to their origin.’

‘Perhaps the package was originally owned by someone with the initials A.V.?’ suggested Crabb, trying to sound helpful.

‘Or the papers in this envelope relate to someone whose name is A.V.?’ said Ravenscroft, crossing back to the solicitor. ‘Thank you, Mr Midwinter. I would secure the envelope again in your safe.’

‘I will indeed, Inspector.’

Ravenscroft regained his seat and waited for the solicitor to lock the papers back inside his safe and resume his place behind his desk.

‘Mr Midwinter, I have no doubt that the man Robertson was indeed the stranger who called upon you on Christmas Eve, but I also acknowledge your caution in this matter given that you would
be unable to give a positive identification of the deceased due to his decayed condition. I have recently returned from London, where I made enquiries regarding the man Robertson. I learnt that he was employed as a coachman in the service of Sir James Stanhope. I also learnt that he had left the capital suddenly on the morning of Christmas Eve, taking a large packet with him. As yet, I have been unable to discover why the gentleman chose to come to our town or why he should have selected yourself as the custodian of such a package – but I do believe that he was anxious that the contents of the envelope should not fall into the wrong hands. I also believe that Robertson was killed because his assailant believed the envelope was still upon his person, and wanted to take possession of it.’

‘Dear me, this is all rather serious and mysterious,’ said Midwinter, looking perplexed and adjusting his spectacles.

‘A serious matter indeed, Mr Midwinter. Since my return from London, I have had the distinct impression that my every move has been observed. Yesterday evening my constable and I thought we detected someone following us in the wood near Mr Catherwood’s residence, and this morning I am sure that someone unknown to us was watching the burial of Nathaniel Montacute. On both occasions when we sought to apprehend the person, he proved too quick for us. When we entered this room today, I was anxious to look out of your window. Before we visited you here today, opposite your premises, on the other side of the street, I observed an old beggar slumped on the pavement, although I am sure if you looked now you would find him gone.’

‘This is terrible, Inspector,’ said the solicitor, breaking into Ravenscroft’s narrative.

‘You think this beggar is following us in the hope that we can lead him to the missing packet?’ suggested Crabb, looking up anxiously.

‘I do indeed.’

‘But you took the envelope over to the window, where he would—’ began Crabb.

‘Exactly! As soon as you told us about the packet, Mr Midwinter, the idea took root in my mind that we might set a little trap for our murderer,’ replied Ravenscroft.

‘I’m afraid I don’t quite understand, Inspector,’ said Midwinter,
a puzzled expression on his face.

‘By going over to the window on the pretext of obtaining more light with which to examine the packet, I was able to show the beggar that we were in possession of the very documents he had been searching for. We will also have ensured that he has seen the package being replaced within your safe.’

‘Good heavens!’ exclaimed the solicitor.

‘Now that he knows that you are in possession of the documents, I have no doubt that Robertson’s killer will attempt to break into your premises tonight in the hope of being able to retrieve the papers from your safe.’

‘What are we to do?’ asked the worried solicitor.

‘Mr Midwinter, is there a back entrance to your premises?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘Why, yes, there is a small kitchen and storeroom at the back of the property, which leads directly out into the courtyard.’

‘Excellent. Perhaps you would be kind enough to show us this yard before we leave and furnish us with a key. Constable Crabb and I will then leave by the front entrance in the normal way. You would then oblige us by continuing with your usual work. I have no doubt that our killer will be watching our every move. You should lock up your premises at your usual time and return home, Mr Midwinter. Shortly afterwards my constable and I will let ourselves in the back way, and with your permission will lie in wait for our man to make his move. I trust that you would not object if we were to make use of your office for the evening?’