Hawke's Tor (13 page)

W
HEN TOM RETURNED to Cornwall the following day and reported the results of his journey to Laverstock, Amos echoed the frustration felt by his friend.

‘That's another line of inquiry that seems to have come to a dead-end, Tom and we are no closer to finding baby Albert – or Kerensa Morgan's murderer. I think we need to go through the details of all we have done once again and check what we have, what everyone has said to us, then see if we can come up with some new ideas. Unless Kerensa was murdered by someone who hasn't yet come to our notice, it's beginning to look as though Horace Morgan is our sole remaining suspect.'

‘Let's hope Verity turns up something on him at the East India Company. She'll be there today.' Tom told Amos of his meeting in Salisbury with Verity, touching briefly on the part he had played in obtaining training for Detective Sergeant Farmer's daughter as a Nightingale nurse.

‘Verity is showing a very keen interest in the case and I'm glad you were able to be of some help to her, Tom. You seem to have built up an excellent relationship with Wiltshire's detective branch too. That might stand us in good stead at some time in the future, so your trip hasn't been wasted. Spend a quiet day tomorrow writing a report about it and I'll show it to the chief
constable. The day after is going to be a busy one for both of us. I need to set off early in the pony and trap to attend the funeral of Kerensa Morgan at North Hill. The coroner released her body after the inquest, while you were away. The jury returned a verdict of murder by person, or persons unknown. In view of the fact that Colonel Trethewy is involved, the chief constable feels we should be represented at the service.'

‘Do you have anything special in mind for me while you're there?'

‘Yes, Tom, I'd like you to pay a visit to the farm where this gypsy girl is staying and check whether her father has returned. If he hasn't, find out if she can tell us any more about his activities, or whether she knows of anyone else who might have been doing the same thing. Then you can go on to the Ring o' Bells to tell Alfie Kittow you've seen his wife and the baby. Frighten him a little and perhaps he can come up with something that might be useful to us. When you're done come on to Trelyn and meet me at Sergeant Dreadon's house. I've arranged to have something to eat there before returning to Bodmin. No doubt Dreadon's wife will be able to find enough for both of us.'

 

When Tom reached Gassick Farm he found Zillah in one of the stables grooming a moorland foal, one of three that would be put up for sale in the near future. She greeted him warmly, but was so despondent when she learned he had no news of her father he was unsure whether her initial warmth was at seeing him, or because she believed he had come with news of the missing man.

‘I'm sorry, Zillah, but I'm on my way to North Hill and Trelyn now and while I'm there I'll be asking around to see whether anyone has any news of him. But how are things going, here at the farm?'

She shrugged, ‘I'm keeping busy. There's plenty to do around the place, it's been neglected for far too long.'

‘You haven't thought of anything else that might help us to find your father, or remembered something about that last night that might help identify whoever it was who called him out?'

‘Nothing, but I'm about finished here now, would you like to come into the house for a cup of tea and meet my grandmother?'

Accepting her offer, Tom accompanied her into the farmhouse to meet the owner. Blanche Keach reminded Tom of Bessie Harris, the North Hill midwife. She was small and comfortably plump but, much to his relief, unlike the midwife's home, hers did not smell of cats. She was a busy, garrulous woman with a moorland Cornish accent which was so strong that initially he had some difficulty in understanding her. However, it soon became embarrassingly evident to him that she was sounding out his prospects as a possible future grandson-in-law.

Zillah was aware of it too and as soon as Tom had finished his tea she made the excuse that she had more work to do in the farmyard and ushered him out of the house. They left still pursued by the searching questions of the old woman.

‘I am sorry for that,' Zillah apologized, when they were clear of the farmhouse. ‘But Grandma doesn't meet many people up here on the moor and you're the first man I've ever brought into the house. It will probably be the last, I found it very embarrassing. '

‘I'm sure she means well. She's probably concerned you'll end up as she has, looking after the farm on your own.'

‘There are worse things to be doing – and when Dado comes back I'll suggest to him that we both stay here and work. We'd never be rich, but we'd never starve either.'

Riding away from the farm after spending about half an hour
in Zillah's company, Tom wondered what was likely to happen to her if Jed Smith
never
returned. Her grandmother would soon be too old to work about the farm and it would be a lonely and hardworking place for a young girl on her own. It was something that would be much on his mind in the days to come.

 

At North Hill the Ring o' Bells was quiet, the inn not yet open for the day's business although the cleaner had completed his work and a tired-looking Alfie Kittow was making everything ready for the customers he was expecting at noon.

Outside the church, which was only across the lane from the inn, a black carriage drawn by two plumed black horses stood outside the gate to the churchyard. Behind it was another carriage with the Trethewy coat-of-arms painted on the door and beyond that again Tom recognized Amos's pony and cart.

‘You've arrived a little late for the funeral, although I see you're not dressed for it anyway. Can I offer you a drink?'

Declining the landlord's offer, Tom said, ‘The village is very quiet, Alfie, is everyone in the church?'

‘The only person from North Hill I've seen go in there is old Bessie Harris. Everyone else has stayed in behind closed doors. The mourners are all servants and workers from Trelyn Hall, attending the funeral on the orders of Colonel Trethewy. It wouldn't be good for his image if no one turned out for the funeral of his estate steward's wife, especially when no one in North Hill even bothered to come out to pay respects to the coffin as it passed by. I've never known such a thing before, not even when they buried an unknown Irish navvy who got drunk, wandered out on the moor and died in the snow when they were putting the railway in, down by Liskeard.'

‘Did the villagers really hate Kerensa Morgan so much?'

‘The men certainly didn't and that's the trouble. I can't think of one woman in the village who was ever friendly to her and there's not a man who'd dare come out and show respect for fear of what he'd suffer from the woman in his life!'

‘Well, my superintendent is at the funeral to show that the Cornish Constabulary haven't forgotten her … but talking of the women in our lives, I must congratulate you and your wife on your son. He's a bonny little chap. I must admit a family resemblance is not immediately obvious, but no doubt most people who see him will say he favours your wife's side of the family, just to please her. But, of course, you'll be aware of how he looks already, having been at Liskeard railway station when Jed Smith handed him over to her.'

The pewter mug being cleaned by the inn-keeper landed on its rim on the slate floor, severely distorting the drinking vessel. Leaving it lying where it had fallen, Alfie said, ‘You've seen Florrie and the baby? But … they're in Wiltshire!'

‘That's right, Alfie, she and Harry are staying with her sister in Laverstock, at least, they were when I saw them. Florrie was very helpful, she told me all sorts of interesting things about baby Harry – and Jed Smith. Things you seem to have forgotten when Superintendent Hawke and I spoke to you. In fact I could be quite cross with you for not being truthful to us at the time.'

Alfie's first instinct was to plead innocence but he realized it would not only be futile but likely to antagonize Tom.

‘I'm sorry, I didn't
want
to lie to you, but if word got around here about what we'd done, me and Florrie, there would always have been a stigma attached to the baby, and we wouldn't want that. We intend bringing the baby up as our own, him never knowing the truth and having no one else know, either.'

‘You wouldn't get away with that, Alfie, at least, not if it's your
intention to stay around here. Bessie Harris isn't the only one who's sceptical about Florrie's pregnancy and there would always be a chance the baby's real mother would hear the gossip, put two-and-two together and one day decide she wanted to see how he's growing up.'

‘Me and Florrie have spoken about that and now she seems to be happy in Wiltshire with the baby I intend selling up here and taking a better class public house there, so Florrie can be closer to her family. But I suppose that depends on you, and what you decide to do now you've found out all about it.'

‘Quite frankly it's likely to be out of my hands. You
could
still be of help to us, but having lied to us before I don't know whether my superintendent will believe anything you say to us in the future. Mind you, if you can possibly help us in any way then he and the chief constable might decide to forget anything else you've done. If they don't…?' Tom shrugged, ‘The chief constable could object to you getting a licence to run a public house – and that would influence the magistrates in any other part of the country.'

‘But that would take away my livelihood!' Alfie was genuinely dismayed.

‘A licensee needs to be an honest pillar of the community, Alfie. Lying to the police doesn't exactly fit that bill, nor does keeping anything from them. You must learn a lot from the men who frequent this inn. Drink has a habit of loosening a man's tongue so I doubt if there's a rumour going around about anything in the community that you don't know about. The murder of Kerensa Morgan and the disappearance of baby Albert is one of the most shocking things ever to happen in this area and men will talk about it whenever and wherever they meet up. You must hear a lot of the talk and know what everyone is thinking.
I'd like to know about it, Alfie. Something someone says could well tie in with what we already know and so prove helpful in catching the murderer and getting baby Albert back.'

‘I hear talk, of course I do, but don't take too much notice of it.'

‘Well I suggest you do in future. Let me or Sergeant Dreadon know about any of the rumours that are going around and let
us
decide whether there's truth in any of them. It could make my chief constable change his mind about you.'

Alfie Kittow remained silent but, as Tom turned to leave, he said, ‘Was Florrie upset by you going to Laverstock to see her?'

Turning back to the concerned inn-keeper, Tom said, ‘I think she was afraid I was either going to take the baby away from her or tell her sister the truth, but once I'd reassured her she told me all about how she came by him. Had we known earlier it would have saved the Cornwall Constabulary the money that was spent going to check whether or not the baby was in fact Albert Morgan.'

‘You thought he might have been Albert and you told her that? Oh, poor Florrie!'

‘I told her about Kerensa's murder and that her baby had gone missing, but she was far more upset at the thought that Harry might be taken away from her. Had you told me the truth in the first place, and of Jed Smith's part in it, you could have saved Florrie all the distress she was caused. Talking of Jed Smith … when did you last see him? Was it after he gave the baby to you and your wife?'

‘I had no reason to see him again once I'd paid him at Liskeard railway station.'

‘So he never said anything to you about anyone else he might be getting a baby for?'

‘No, but he wouldn't, would he? I mean, the most important
thing about what he does is to keep it quiet so that nobody ever knows where it's come from, or gone to. But if you think Jed might have had anything to do with Kerensa's murder you're absolutely wrong. He makes money by finding homes for unwanted babies – and might do one or two other things that aren't strictly honest by our standards, but he isn't a violent man. He'll go out of his way to avoid violence in any shape or form. Everyone who knows him will tell you the same.'

Tom thought Zillah would be touched to know what Alfie and others thought of her father, but he did not respond to Alfie's assessment of the gypsy's temperament and left the Ring o' Bells after reminding Alfie once more of the importance of listening to any gossip he heard in his public house and telling him to pass it on to Sergeant Dreadon at Trelyn.

Neither Tom nor Amos would pursue an investigation into the manner in which Alfie and Florrie had obtained baby Harry, nor would they suggest to their chief constable that he have the publican's licence revoked, but it would do Alfie no harm to think that either might happen. It meant he would be anxious to bring anything he learned about the case to their attention.

T
HE FUNERAL SERVICE at the North Hill church had ended and Kerensa Morgan laid to rest in the tiny churchyard by the time Tom left the public house and was riding to Trelyn. He passed groups of Colonel Trethewy's servants and workers walking back to the estate.

Amos was talking to Sergeant Dreadon outside the entrance to the police house when Tom arrived there. Tying his horse on a loose rein to the post outside the garden gate, he joined them and told both men of his meeting with Alfie Kittow and the suggestion he had made to him.

‘I'll make a point of visiting the Ring o' Bells more often on my beat,' Dreadon said. ‘Just in case he's a bit shy of coming to visit me here. It's one of my duties anyway, but there's rarely any trouble there. Alfie Kittow runs a good inn and is quick to bar any troublemakers.'

‘Well, let's hope he comes up with something of use to us,' Amos commented. ‘We don't seem to be progressing very well at the moment with our own inquiries – but you were telling me what has been going on here, at Trelyn. It sounds as though things have been very quiet.'

‘That's what I
was
saying,' Sergeant Dreadon agreed, ‘but I think it's about to change!' He nodded to where a horse which
possessed more skin and bone than flesh, was executing a shuffling trot along the lane towards them, a gnarled little old man dressed in farming garb jolting up and down on the animal's saddle-less back. ‘It's Ebenezer Pender who farms up Slippery Hill way. He's always got problems with something or other and expects us to sort out everything from the weather to a poor harvest.'

When the horse was pulled to a halt in front of the police house the rider slid to the ground and scuttled along the path towards the waiting policemen as fast as legs shaped to the body of his pony, would allow.

‘Well now, Ebenezer,' said the sergeant. ‘That's the first time in all the years I've been stationed here at Trelyn that I've ever seen you in a hurry about anything, so I'm guessing you have something of importance to tell me.'

‘It's important all right,' Farmer Ebenezer declared, ‘and I daresay you'll think so too when I tell 'ee. I haven't been able to give my cows nothing to drink this morning because of it and they've got no water up there in the top field behind the old mine.'

‘Well now, I know we've had no rain for nigh on four weeks and things are becoming critical, but it's the Lord's doing and there's nothing even a police sergeant can do about it.'

‘I'm not talking about the weather,' the red-faced farmer declared, ‘and it don't much matter whether there's rain or no. That well's never dried up in all my lifetime, no, nor my father's or grandfather's neither. 'Tis the
reason
why I can't get no water that I'm here to tell 'ee about – and though the Lord will no doubt be having plenty to say to the man involved about all the things he's done in his life, right now it's
you
who'll need to be sorting my water out.'

‘I'm sorry, Ebenezer, you're not making any sense. What is it you think I can do about your well?'

‘If you'd been listening to me there'd be no need for you to be asking damn silly questions. I want you to come to the well on my farm, up by the old mine explosive store and take away the body that's in there, stopping me from raising the bucket.'

‘A body?' This time it was Tom who spoke. ‘Do you have any idea who it is?'

The farmer gave Tom a disdainful look, ‘It may not be a very deep well, but we don't have lanterns down wells here in Cornwall so I can't say as I recognized him, or even saw his face, but he seems to be lying on top of the bucket, which is why it wouldn't come up, and there's a red scarf caught on the stonework a little way down, the sort of scarf worn by a gypsy. The only gypsy I know of around these parts is that Jed Smith, who has his wagon on Harriet Hocking's land, beyond my place….'

 

The three policemen, aided by a couple of farm labourers finally succeeded in retrieving the body from the bottom of a well that was enclosed by a low wall, close to what had once been a small but sturdily built explosives store on an abandoned mine on Ebenezer's farmland, not far from Slippery Hill itself.

Sergeant Dreadon was able to identify the body immediately as being that of Jed Smith – but his was the
second
body recovered from the wall. Lying on top of the dead gypsy in the narrow well was another … that of a baby boy.

Hurriedly summoned to the scene Horace Morgan arrived accompanied by Colonel Trethewy, travelling in a light, four-wheeled open carriage. He immediately identified the second body as being that of his missing son, Albert.

Distraught and bewildered, he demanded, ‘Why…? Why kill Albert as well as Kerensa? I know Kerensa made enemies during her lifetime, rightly or wrongly, but why Albert? He was just a baby who had never done a wrong deed to anyone. Why kill him too? He had so much to live for….'

‘There's no sense trying to read the mind of a man like that,' This from Colonel Trethewy who had joined the men at the well. ‘He could not possibly have had anything against either of them, it is just the way these gypsies are.'

From the moment the bodies had been discovered, the thought uppermost in Tom's mind had been how he was going to break the news of her father's death to Zillah, and the magistrate's words angered him, but before he could respond to the statement, Amos said, ‘Sadly, it would seem that Jed Smith was a victim too.'

‘Nonsense!' Colonel Trethewy spluttered, any grief he might have felt at the discovery of baby Albert outweighed by satisfaction that a gypsy had suffered a similar fate. ‘You have the body of Morgan's son and there's a dead gypsy in the well with him. It's obvious he killed the baby after murdering its mother, then slipped and fell in the well himself after disposing of the baby's body.'

‘It's a shallow well, Colonel, neither wide nor deep enough for anyone to go floating around and changing their position. The man who went down there on the rope found the baby's body lying
on top
of the gypsy. That means that baby Albert went into the well
after
Smith. Someone killed the gypsy and threw him into the well, then tossed the baby in after him.'

For almost half a minute Colonel Trethewy sought for a flaw in Tom's reasoning. Then, with a curt, ‘Well, it's your case, you sort it out. I've told you what
I
think', he turned on his heel and stalked off, heading for his carriage.

Without turning his head towards Amos, Sergeant Dreadon watched the departing landlord and said, ‘There have been many times when I would have liked to tell Colonel Trethewy that he was talking a load of nonsense but I've never had either the nerve or the courage of my convictions that I was right. You've just given me a moment to savour, sir. It's a memory I shall cherish.'

Tom was only half listening to his colleagues. He realized Amos's observations were correct, which meant that someone was responsible for the deaths of both Albert and Jed Smith and undoubtedly Kerensa Morgan too, but he knew Amos would ask him to ride to Gassick Farm and bring Zillah to the old explosive store to make a positive identification of her father.

It was not a task he relished.

 

When Tom arrived at the moorland farm, one look at his unhappy expression told Zillah even before he began apologizing for being the bearer of the worst possible news. She listened with increasing anguish as he told her of Ebenezer's grisly discovery and explained to her that although Sergeant Dreadon had said the body was that of her father, she needed to come with him to make a positive identification.

Not until they were almost halfway to the well, with Zillah riding bareback on a moorland pony beside him, did she ask, ‘How did he die?'

There was no kind way of telling her and Tom replied, ‘We think he was struck on the back of the head with an iron bar before being thrown down the well. We found what we believe to be the murder weapon at the scene.'

‘So he was murdered … but why? He had more friends than enemies and I can think of no one who would want to kill him.'

‘I can think of someone with a very good reason, Zillah. The man who called at your wagon the night Kerensa Morgan was murdered. If it is your father – and I am afraid there is little doubt about it – he and Kerensa were both killed by the same man. The fact that the body of her baby was also in the well, lying on top of your father is significant. It's possible your father was called out to take the baby and find a home for it but realized who it was. If that was the case he would know who the murderer of Kerensa was. He was probably the only one who did. Because of this the murderer had to get rid of him too. So, you see, it's more important than ever that you remember every single thing you can about the night that man came to your caravan, no matter how unimportant you believe it to be. The murderer has killed three times now and for all we know may well strike again.'

‘To the best of my knowledge Dado never ever saw Kerensa's baby and we never knew she had been found murdered when he was called out.'

‘So you told me, but the murderer wasn't to know that and once your father heard about it he would have realized he had been dealing with her murderer and that would have sealed his fate.'

‘But why call Dado out at all if he was going to kill Kerensa's baby anyway?'

‘That's one of a great many questions I can't answer just yet, Zillah. The whole thing is thoroughly baffling at this point.'

He did not voice a growing unease he had that the murderer might consider the possibility that Zillah could have seen him, or would recognize his voice if she heard it again. If it crossed the murderer's mind then she too would become a victim.

They travelled in silence for much of the remainder of the journey to the old mine and once there Zillah tearfully confirmed
that the body found in the well was that of her father. She tried very hard to contain her grief but did not succeed and, taking her arm, Tom led her away as the others waited for a farm cart belonging to Ebenezer to arrive and carry the bodies away.

When they were some distance away from the others, Tom asked, ‘What will you do now, Zillah? Would you like me to ride with you back to Gassick Farm?'

‘What is going to happen to Dado now?'

‘There will be an autopsy carried out on him to find out how he died and an inquest will be carried out by a coroner. When that's over the … your father's body will be released to you.'

Struggling hard to remain in control, Zillah queried, ‘How long will all that take?'

‘I honestly don't know, Zillah. Much will depend on the findings of the surgeon carrying out the autopsy and then it's up to the coroner to decide. There will certainly need to be an inquest, but he could release the body before then. I wish I could be more specific but sometimes these things take time.'

Digesting this information, Zillah finally asked, ‘When was he killed?'

‘Again, I couldn't say for certain but I suspect it happened on the night he went off with the man who called at your wagon.'

This information resulted in another long silence. It was broken when Tom said, ‘I'll keep you informed of all that's happening with our investigation into his murder. I'm really sorry about all that's happened, Zillah, but by the time you told me about your father being missing he had most probably already been killed, so there was nothing I could do to prevent it.'

‘I know …' Suddenly and unexpectedly the tears in her eyes spilled over and began running down her cheeks. Reaching out, she gripped his arm fiercely. ‘I wish … but, no, it doesn't matter
what
I wish. You'll find who did to this to my Dado and the others?'

Feeling deeply sorry for the bereft girl, Tom said, ‘Yes, I'll find him, Zillah, and he'll pay with his life for what he's done.'

‘Find who killed my father, have him punished and you'll learn what it is I wish … but may I see the baby, please?'

‘Are you quite certain you want to, Zillah, it's a very sad sight?'

‘I'd like to see the face of someone who shared death with my father.'

‘Very well, the baby's body is inside the explosives store. I'll take you there.'

Inside the stone-built building the sunshine streaming through the open door fell upon the tiny body and Zillah looked at it for a long while before saying, ‘I expected to see it wrapped in the shawl I made for Kerensa Morgan shortly before it was born. Dado took it to her at Trelyn and said she was delighted with it.'

Tom had been over the evidence many times since Kerensa Morgan's murder and he remembered that in Jemima Rowe's statement to him and Amos when they had first met her, the retired Trelyn Hall housekeeper had specifically said that when she saw Kerensa pass by her cottage, carrying baby Albert,
he was wrapped in a shawl
.

Suddenly excited, he asked, ‘This shawl, was there anything particularly distinctive about it? I mean, was it something your father might have recognized if he had seen it wrapped around the baby?'

‘Of course. He admired it while I was making it and was so proud of it when it was finished he took it to Kerensa Morgan himself.'

‘Then we might have found a motive for your father's murder.
If he was taken to the baby on the night he was called out from your wagon and recognized the shawl he would have known who the baby was and might have said something about it to the murderer, or perhaps refused to have anything to do with what was going on. The murderer couldn't have allowed him to go away because when your father heard about Kerensa's murder he might well have gone to the police. Is there anything particular about this shawl
I
might recognize if I saw it, Zillah?'