Murder at the Ashmolean, page 21
‘That’s what I don’t understand; why would this Inspector Grafton think I’d have anything to do with Everett’s suicide?’
‘That’s something I was intending to ask him, but now I guess we’ll never know.’
‘You knew this inspector?’
‘I did. I knew him when I was a detective with Scotland Yard, and I’d met him here in Oxford since Miss Fenton and I arrived. He warned me not to continue investigating Everett’s death, which is why my curiosity was aroused.’
‘And the police have no idea what he was up to in my house?’
‘Not to my knowledge.’
‘Superintendent Clare says the man was from Special Branch. Does that mean they are looking into me, for some reason?’
‘I have no idea, sir,’ said Daniel. ‘Superintendent Clare might be able to throw more light on it than me.’
‘I asked him. He said he had no idea.’ He looked troubled. ‘I can’t think of any reason why they should be looking into me. My business affairs are open for anyone to see. I have no involvement in politics, and my understanding is that Special Branch was set up to investigate political troublemakers, treasonable people, assassins, that kind of thing.’
‘Yes, sir. That’s my understanding as well.’
‘And Grafton never said anything to throw any light on why he was interested in me? Interested enough to burgle me?’
‘No,’ said Daniel. ‘In fact, he refused to give me any information as to why he was here in Oxford.’
Chessington frowned, puzzled, and muttered, ‘Most mysterious.’ Then his face brightened, and he said, ‘But enough of this morbidity! I don’t know if Gladstone Marriott mentioned it to you, but I am somewhat of a collector of historical pieces. Alas, not the wonders that you have seen, Miss Fenton, but one or two pieces of which I am very proud have come my way through auction houses, and I’d be most grateful if you’d allow me to show them to you.’
‘It would be my pleasure,’ said Abigail.
‘I hope this won’t bore you, Mr Wilson, two devotees of history indulging this way.’
‘Not at all,’ said Daniel. ‘Through Miss Fenton, I’ve learnt to appreciate history and historical artefacts.’
‘Splendid!’ Chessington stood up. ‘Then follow me!’
He led the way into the adjoining drawing room where some ancient artefacts were on display. Most, Abigail noted, were small sculptures from the Roman period, along with a few items such as combs and pottery.
‘Many of these came from archaeological surveys at Roman sites here in Britain,’ he told them proudly. He pointed. ‘That is from Bath, that from St Albans, and that one from Hadrian’s Wall.’
Suddenly something caught Abigail’s attention through a half-open door into an adjoining room.
‘And it looks as if you have other treasures in here, My Lord,’ she said, interested.
At a speed surprising for a man of his age and bulk, Chessington moved swiftly and pulled the door shut, just as Abigail was about to enter, and turned the key in the lock.
‘My sincerest apologies,’ he said humbly to Abigail. ‘But that’s my private room, my study, where I keep very important business papers. Even my servants aren’t allowed inside. I was in there just before you arrived and obviously forgot to lock the door after me. Once again, my apologies.’
‘We quite understand,’ said Abigail. ‘I would be the same with my own private papers.’
‘What private papers?’ asked Daniel half an hour later as they walked down the steps from the house, having made their farewells to Lord Chessington.
‘I don’t have any,’ replied Abigail. ‘I just wanted to allay Lord Chessington’s fears that I might have seen something in that room that he wouldn’t want me to see.’
‘And did you?’
‘Yes.’ Abigail nodded. ‘I caught sight of the original plate from the Ashmolean, the one that Goddard copied, just before he shut the door.’
‘You’re sure?’ asked Daniel.
‘Absolutely,’ said Abigail firmly. ‘Remember, ancient Egyptian artefacts are my speciality.’
‘So, it looks as if Lord Chessington was one of the customers for Everett and his stolen artefacts,’ said Daniel.
‘It does indeed,’ said Abigail.
‘And now we may have a different and more sinister reason why Chessington killed Inspector Grafton,’ said Daniel. He gave a determined look at Abigail and said, ‘I think it’s time we let Inspector Pitt know about the forgeries and Josiah Goddard, and this connection with his lordship.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
When they got to Kemp Hall they were told that Inspector Pitt had gone for the day.
‘But he left a message that if either of you called asking for him, and if it was urgent, we were to give you his home address for you to call on him there,’ the duty sergeant informed them.
Daniel and Abigail exchanged looks, then both said simultaneously, ‘Yes, it is urgent.’
As they left the police station, Abigail asked, ‘Is it really urgent enough to disturb him at home?’
‘Inspector Pitt seemed to think so, otherwise he wouldn’t have left the message,’ said Daniel. ‘And policemen are used to having their home lives disturbed.’
The address they were given was of a neat, well-kept terraced house in a short cul-de-sac. Their knock at the front door was answered by a girl of about nine, who looked at them enquiringly.
‘Good afternoon,’ said Daniel. ‘Is Inspector Pitt at home?’
‘It’s actually good evening, because it’s after six o’clock,’ the girl corrected him. ‘Who wants him?’
‘Mr Daniel Wilson and Miss Abigail Fenton.’
‘If you wait here, I’ll see if he’s available.’
With that, she shut the door.
‘Well, that put me in my place,’ said Daniel ruefully.
‘I like her,’ said Abigail approvingly. ‘A girl after my own heart.’
The door opened, and this time Inspector Pitt looked out at them. He grinned. ‘I hear you just met my daughter, Edie, who said she corrected you about the time of day.’
‘Indeed, she did,’ said Daniel.
‘And quite rightly,’ said Abigail. ‘She should be encouraged.’
‘Edie needs no encouragement,’ said Pitt. He looked momentarily concerned as he said, ‘The fact you’re calling suggests something’s happened.’
‘More like information received,’ said Daniel.
‘In that case, you’d better come in.’
‘You sure we won’t be disturbing you?’ asked Daniel.
‘A policeman’s job is to always be disturbed,’ said Pitt. ‘You should know that better than anyone, Mr Wilson.’
‘Daniel,’ said Daniel.
‘In that case, as I’m off duty and it’s after hours, I’m Bradley.’
He led them into the narrow hallway and called, ‘Martha!’
A woman appeared from the back of the house, wiping her hands on a towel. Behind her came three children: their daughter, Edie, along with two boys, both younger.
‘Daniel and Abigail, I’d like you to meet my wife, Martha. Martha, this is Daniel Wilson and Abigail Fenton, who I’ve told you about.’
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ said Martha.
‘And a pleasure for us,’ said Abigail, shaking her hand. ‘We apologise for disrupting your household.’
Martha smiled. ‘I’m used to it.’
‘And this is Edie, who you’ve already met, and her brothers, Tom, and Richard the youngest.’
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ said Abigail, and she and Daniel formally shook the children’s hands.
‘We need to talk business, so I’m going to take them into the parlour,’ Pitt said to his wife. ‘And some tea’s in order I think, Martha, if that’s alright.’ He winked at her. ‘With a slice of your special fruit cake, if you please, especially after what Mr Wilson’s been through.’
‘Thank you, but actually we’ve just had afternoon tea,’ said Daniel. ‘We were invited to Lord Chessington’s and we’ve just come from there.’
Pitt looked at them, stunned. ‘Lord Chessington!’
‘I don’t think I can serve you anything like you’d have been given at his lordship’s,’ said Martha unhappily.
‘Nonsense!’ said Abigail. ‘His lordship’s was all thin biscuits, not enough to slake the appetite of a grasshopper. If you don’t mind, Mrs Pitt, I’d love to take a slice of your fruit cake. And Daniel was just trying to be polite. I know he’d love some, too.’
‘Yes, I would.’ Daniel smiled. ‘If it’s no trouble.’
‘No trouble at all!’ said Martha, happy again.
Pitt led them into the parlour, and Daniel was pleased to note that, unlike the parlour of his own parents and most of his relatives which was kept for only the most solemn of occasions, notably after funerals, and so dark and oppressive in its furniture and decor, this room was light and cheerful, and obviously used by the family regularly.
Pitt gestured them to chairs, then asked, ‘So, what’s this about you going to tea at Lord Chessington’s?’
‘He invited us,’ said Daniel. ‘He said he wanted to make amends for the way I’d been treated. But I suspect his real motive was he wanted to meet Abigail. He’s apparently a collector of note, especially of pieces from ancient Egypt and Greece, and as that’s Abigail’s speciality …’
‘Did he talk to you about shooting Grafton?’
‘He did, and it was very much as you described it. He found a burglar in his study and believed he was in danger, so he shot him.’ Daniel frowned thoughtfully. ‘The thing that still doesn’t ring true for me is his claim that he only intended to wound him. Lord Chessington comes across as a man used to handling firearms, so if he just intended to wound this burglar, why shoot him in the chest where he’s more likely to kill him?’
‘The heat of the moment?’ suggested Pitt.
‘Possibly,’ said Daniel. ‘But I wondered if he wanted to make sure this burglar didn’t reveal what was in the study.’
‘And what was in the study?’ asked Pitt.
Daniel turned to Abigail.
‘I think it’s for you to explain to the inspector about the fakes, as you discovered them,’ he said.
‘The fakes?’ asked Pitt.
‘What we’re about to tell you is not for public knowledge,’ said Abigail. ‘Not yet. Unless it turns out to be the real motive for the murder of Gavin Everett.’
‘Go on,’ said Pitt.
Abigail was about to enlarge, when the door opened, and Martha appeared bearing a tray with teapot, cups, milk, sugar and plates with three slices of cake.
‘Here you are,’ she said brightly.
‘Thank you, Martha!’ said Pitt, getting up to take the tray from her and putting it on a small table.
‘Is there anything else?’ she asked.
‘No, this will be perfect.’ Abigail smiled. ‘Thank you, Mrs Pitt.’
‘Then I’ll leave you to your business,’ said Martha, and she left, closing the door behind her.
Pitt set about pouring tea and distributing the cake, while Abigail told him what she’d discovered at the Ashmolean.
‘Gavin Everett was running a racket,’ she said. ‘He was getting certain ancient artefacts copied – mainly decorated plates, from what I can see – and selling the originals to private collectors. And today, at Lord Chessington’s, I saw one of those stolen plates in his study. But he shut the door very quickly as soon as he saw me looking in.’
‘So, what we’re wondering is, how many other pieces stolen from the Ashmolean does he have in that room?’ added Daniel. ‘And did he shoot Grafton – believing him to be a burglar – to prevent him talking about seeing the stolen items?’
‘How sure are you of this?’ asked Pitt. ‘The fact that Everett had these items copied?’
‘I got suspicious about one of the plates on display,’ said Abigail. ‘I examined it and found that it was definitely a copy, and not a very good one. I then found another three items that were copies.’
‘And you didn’t tell me this before because …?’ asked Pitt.
‘We decided to keep it secret because the reputation of the Ashmolean was at stake,’ said Abigail.
‘And they are the ones paying our wages,’ added Daniel.
‘But you told Gladstone Marriott about these fakes?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why have you decided to tell me now?’ asked Pitt. ‘Because of seeing the original at Lord Chessington’s?’
‘No,’ said Daniel. ‘That was a bonus, telling us that Chessington was one of Everett’s secret clients. We’re telling you because we tracked down the man who did the copies for Everett, and there’s a possibility that he may be able to throw some light on why Everett was killed, if the motive for his death is due to these fakes.’
‘Who is this man?’
‘His name’s Josiah Goddard and he has a shop in the north of Oxford. But, after we went to see him, he did a runner. Vanished.’
‘Suggesting he’s guilty of something,’ said Pitt.
‘Exactly,’ said Daniel. ‘And we think we know where he might be hiding. His sister, a Mrs Jenny Woodman, is married to a farmer, and we think he might be hiding out at their farm. We wondered if you could arrange a raid on the farm.’
‘Where is this farm?’
‘It’s near a small village outside Oxford called Stanton St John.’
Pitt gave a rueful grimace.
‘That’s outside our boundary, I’m afraid,’ he said.
‘But all of the county of Oxford comes under the city’s police,’ said Daniel.
‘Yes, but it’s about manpower,’ said Pitt. ‘We’re quite a small force, so the Police Board prefer that crimes committed outside the city are handled by the local constabulary.’ Then he smiled. ‘Stanton St John, did you say?’
‘Yes,’ said Abigail.
‘Fortunately, I know the sergeant who operates there. Sergeant Jasper Mills. A good man. I’ll give you a note to introduce you. You tell him what you want, and that you’re working with me, and I’m sure he’ll be helpful. Plus, it’s always better to have the local man on the job. Jasper will know these Woodman people, which means he’ll know the best way to handle them.’
He got up and went to a small bureau, from which he took writing paper, an envelope, and a pen and ink.
‘Thank you,’ said Abigail, as Pitt sat down and began to compose his letter.
‘Luckily, there’s not the same rivalry between us in the city and the Stanton St John station as there is with some others in the county. I’m sure you’ll find Jasper Mills welcoming to you.’
As Daniel watched the inspector write, he asked, ‘How are you getting on with your search for Piers Stevens?’
Pitt shook his head.
‘We’ve drawn a blank so far,’ he said, ruefully. ‘There’s no sign of him.’
‘I think I may have an idea where he’s hiding,’ said Daniel thoughtfully.
Both Pitt and Abigail looked at him in surprise.
‘Where?’ asked Pitt.
‘At his house,’ said Daniel.
Pitt stared at him.
‘Impossible!’ he said. ‘His mother was very clear about her attitude towards him. She wouldn’t allow it.’
‘But the maid, Vera, is different. Abigail said she thinks the maid’s in love with Stevens.’
‘She is,’ said Abigail. She looked at Daniel, impressed. ‘I think you’re right! Stevens is a young man used to having everything done for him. He’s not the kind who could survive easily on the streets, and even less so in a wood, or somewhere rural. He has no access to money. He can’t trust any of his acquaintances from the Quill Club.’
‘Exactly,’ said Daniel. ‘The only place he would seek refuge is the only place he knows, his home. He’d throw himself on the mercy of the maid, beg her to hide him, and not tell his mother.’
‘But where could he hide in there?’ asked Pitt.
‘A cellar. An outhouse,’ said Daniel. ‘Somewhere the maid could deliver him food. In my opinion, I think it would be worth you making a return visit to the house, ostensibly to update Mrs Stevens on the lack of success in the search for her son. And while you’re there, question the maid. Tell her you know she’s hiding him and you only want to help him. Promise that you’ll take him without violence and that you’ll make sure he has a fair trial, a proper hearing.’
‘And if she doesn’t believe me?’
‘Search the house, especially the areas that are rarely used. As I said, the cellar or an outhouse. After all, you haven’t had any luck finding him so far, so you’ve got nothing to lose.’
As Daniel and Abigail walked away from Pitt’s house, making their way back to their hotel, Abigail said, ‘You are very clever, Daniel Wilson. I didn’t think of Stevens hiding at his house.’
‘You would have,’ said Daniel. ‘You were the one who worked out that the maid was in love with him, so where else could he go?’
‘However, there’s one thing you’re not very knowledgeable about,’ said Abigail.
‘What’s that?’
‘The importance of cake being served,’ said Abigail.
‘It’s cake,’ protested Daniel. ‘It’s not special!’
‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ said Abigail. ‘It’s more than cake. It’s about proud hospitality. I learnt that from my sister, Bella. These things are very important to some people. And with nice people like Inspector Pitt and his wife, respect has to be shown.’
‘I’ll remember that in future,’ said Daniel. ‘The next time I’m offered cake I’ll weigh up whether they are the sort of person I need to show respect or affection to, in which case I say yes, or if I loathe and despise them, in which case I refuse.’
‘Good,’ chuckled Abigail. ‘You’re learning social skills.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
In his office at the War Office, Commander Atkinson sat stiffly upright and faced Commander Smith and Captain Jones. On his desk in front of him lay their report following their recent visit to Oxford.
