Hawke's Tor (4 page)

W
HILST AMOS WAS interviewing Jemima, Tom was having a frustrating time at Trelyn Hall, where Horace Morgan had an office at the rear of the great house.

After dismissing Tom's words of sympathy with an impatient gesture, Morgan demanded, ‘Have you got anywhere yet with your search for Albert?'

‘We have a great many men working on it and are pursuing a number of lines of enquiry, Mr Morgan, but I'm here to fill in some of the background of both you and the late Mrs Morgan, to see if we can find any possible connection with the tragedy you've suffered.'

‘I suppose that's a long-winded way of saying “no”,' Morgan commented, curtly. ‘Well, you're not going to find him here so you'd be better out there with the others.'

The estate steward showed evidence of having had very little sleep since the murder of his wife and the inexplicable disappearance of his baby son. Tom would normally have shown great sympathy towards the man, but he found it difficult, and Morgan
was
a suspect and, so far, the only one they had.

‘I'll try not to take up any more of your time than is absolutely necessary, Mr Morgan, but we all want to discover what happened up there on the moor, and why. Can you think of anyone
who might have had any serious grudge against either you or your wife? Is there anything you can think of that might have happened before you came to Cornwall, perhaps, that might throw any light on what has happened here?'

For just a moment Tom thought Morgan hesitated, as though he might have thought of something, then the estate steward shook his head vigorously. ‘Nothing at all. Besides, as far as I know nobody I've ever known is even aware I am working in Cornwall. I have no relatives and there was no reason for me to tell anybody else.'

‘How about before then … when you were in India?'

Morgan was startled now. ‘How did you know I had been in India – and how can that possibly have anything to do with what has happened here? Anyway, it was so long ago everyone I knew there will have forgotten me.'

At that moment the door to the steward's office opened and a short, dapper man with a ruddy face and a bristling moustache entered the room. He was dressed for riding and Tom immediately recognized him as Colonel Trethewy, magistrate and owner of the Trelyn Estate. He and Tom were acquainted with each other by sight, the latter having given evidence against defendants in the magistrate's courtroom.

Colonel Trethewy had come to visit his steward, but it was Tom to whom he spoke. ‘What are you doing here, have you found Morgan's missing child yet?'

‘No, sir, but we have every available man out on the moor searching – as we had yesterday.'

‘I trust you also have men searching vehicles leaving the county – especially the caravans of those damned gypsies who've been making such a nuisance of themselves in these parts lately. My head gamekeeper tells me they have been
setting so many snares around the estate it's a wonder I have any game left.'

‘There are constables on every bridge across the Tamar, sir, and we are searching all gypsy camps around the moor.'

‘You are unlikely to find anything now, it's probably far too late. They will have spirited the boy away long before the body of his mother was found, but what
are
you doing here?'

Aware that Colonel Trethewy was one of the men of influence who had been bitterly opposed to the formation of a police force in Cornwall, and who stood with those who refused to allow a detective branch to be set up, Tom realized he needed to be careful how he replied.

‘Superintendent Hawke is personally looking into the murder of Mrs Morgan, sir, he's sent me here to ask Mr Morgan a few questions.'

‘What sort of questions?' Colonel Trethewy demanded.

‘Whether there is anyone who might nurse a grudge against him, or who might hate him sufficiently to want to attack his wife. After all, he has an important post here with you, and important men make enemies.'

‘So they might, but very few enemies resort to murder. Besides, I told Morgan when I took him on that I did not want him becoming too friendly with any of the local people, or taking on employees he might have worked with in the past. Morgan has orders to neither ask nor offer favours because of the post he holds at Trelyn. I am satisfied he has heeded my words by breaking all links with his past and taking a local wife with no family to come begging for favours. In other words, he has proven himself to be an ideal man for the post he holds at Trelyn. In view of this you need trouble him no more, Sergeant, he has more than enough to distract him from his duties right
now, although had he not been adamant that he needs something to take his mind off the tragic happenings of the last couple of days, I would have insisted he take time off. The last thing he wants right now is to have you here asking questions of no consequence to distress him. I suggest you return to Superintendent Hawke and tell him he is to concentrate on gypsies and vagabonds in his search for whoever killed Mrs Morgan and abducted the child.'

 

‘We were lucky to escape with only a “suggestion” from Colonel Trethewy,' Amos commented to Tom, when the two men met later that morning at the police house home of Sergeant Dreadon. ‘Vagabonds and gypsies are his pet hates – although policemen are not far behind them. Anyway, we now know we can eliminate anyone in Morgan's background from the inquiry.'

‘I don't think we can,' Tom replied. ‘As a matter of fact I believe we should look into his background very thoroughly.'

Surprised by Tom's positive response, Amos asked, ‘Why? If he broke all links with his past when he came here it's hardly likely anyone with a grudge will have found him. Trelyn is about as far as you can get from anywhere.'

‘I might have agreed with you half an hour ago,' Tom explained, ‘but I've just had a cup of tea with Sergeant Dreadon and he happened to mention that when he was speaking to the letter carrier the other day, the man was impressed to have just delivered a letter from the Honourable East India Company addressed to Morgan, at Trelyn Hall. It means Morgan was not telling the truth when he said nobody was aware of his whereabouts.'

‘It could be he didn't feel the East India Company counted as “a person”,' Amos commented.

‘Perhaps … but I'm not convinced. I felt all the time we were
talking that there's something in Morgan's background he'd rather we knew nothing about.'

Amos had known the sergeant for too long to dismiss his hunches out of hand. ‘Well, we need to follow up every possible lead, Tom. Write a letter to the East India Company and see if they can tell you anything about Morgan. If there's anything worth looking into further I'll ask the chief constable to authorize you to go up to London and dig a little deeper. We'll go to North Hill now and have a chat with a certain Bessie Harris. Jemima tells me she's the one who is sent for when a baby is being born. It also seems she knows of a gypsy who takes babies from unmarried mothers – for a sum of money, of course – and sells them on to women who are desperate for a baby but unable to have one themselves.'

‘Now
that
could explain baby Albert's mysterious disappearance, ' Tom declared. ‘Although I would never have thought of such a thing as a possible explanation!'

‘Don't get too excited about it, Tom, Jemima's information is a few years old, but it's worth checking out. When we've done that we'll see if the landlord of the Ring o' Bells at North Hill has a private room where we can get something to eat. It might also be a useful opportunity to learn something more about Kerensa Morgan. She worked there before she was married and – again according to Jemima – it seems she did a lot more there than satisfy the customers' thirst. We might learn something of significance.'

B
ESSIE HARRIS'S HOME was a tiny thatched cottage at the edge of North Hill village. The front garden was occupied by a grey-muzzled dog of uncertain breeding, which looked through clouded eyes in the general direction of the two policemen and, as they opened the gate, barked ferociously, at the same time wagging its tail in greeting.

The sound brought two cats to the window-sill inside the house and Amos and Tom would learn they were only one-fifth of the number kept by the woman who during a long lifetime had brought most of the residents of the surrounding villages into the world.

Bessie was a short, grossly overweight, grey-haired woman who waddled rather than walked when she led the two men across the single downstairs room, shooing cats off the two chairs on which she invited her visitors to sit after she had somewhat reluctantly allowed them inside her home.

The room was cluttered with knick-knacks gathered from a lifetime and smelled uncomfortably strongly of the animals which shared the cottage with her. Tom wrinkled his nose in distaste and it did not pass unnoticed by Bessie.

Addressing Amos, she said sharply, ‘I don't suppose you came here just to clutter up my cottage, so what is it you're wanting?'

‘Information, Bessie. We've been told you might be able to give us the name of a gypsy who's been known to find homes for unwanted babies.'

‘Me? How am I supposed to know something like that? I just help mothers best I can to bring their babies into this world. What they do with them afterwards is their business, not mine – nor anybody else's as far as I'm concerned.'

‘I wouldn't argue with that, Bessie,' Amos replied, adding soothingly, ‘From all I've heard you're probably the best midwife in the whole of Cornwall and I am not here to make any accusations against you. The women around here are very lucky to have you, but Sergeant Churchyard and I are investigating a murder, a particularly brutal murder, as well as the disappearance of a baby you will have helped to bring into the world – Albert Morgan.'

‘I did, and a right screamer his mother turned out to be … but I mustn't speak ill of the dead, not even if it is Kerensa Morgan, but what's this gypsy you're talking about got to do with her, or with me?'

‘I want to speak to him to see if he knows anything about Mrs Morgan's death, or can give me any clues as to the whereabouts of her baby….'

Bessie's mouth immediately became a tight-lipped thin line and Amos added, hurriedly, ‘… I am not interested in the babies he's found homes for, especially if they've gone to homes where they're wanted. They'll no doubt live better lives than they might otherwise have had, but I am seeking a murderer and this gypsy has to be a suspect, even though he is not the only one right now.'

‘
That
doesn't surprise me. I could name you half-a dozen
women
who have wished Kerensa Morgan in her grave … not
that they'd actually be ready to put her there,' she added hastily, ‘… and as for Jed Smith, he wouldn't hurt a soul.'

Amos now had the gypsy's name and, nodding at Tom to make a note of it, he asked, ‘Where can I find this Jed Smith?'

Aware she had given away the gypsy's name, Bessie made no further effort to keep anything about him secret. ‘He has a caravan over at Slippery Hill, a couple of miles up the road towards Launceston. He married a non-gypsy woman from out Temple way and his people wouldn't have much to do with him after that, not even after she died, a year or so back. He used to have his caravan up at Sharptor, but as his daughter grew older and prettier she began attracting too many of the miners who work up that way, so he moved off. Like I say, he's not the sort to murder anyone – or steal any babies, either. You hit the nail on the head when you said the babies he's passed on go to better homes than they would have had with their natural mothers.'

Bessie had said far more than she deemed was wise and now she added hurriedly, ‘Not that
I've
ever had anything to do with that sort of thing myself, but I know the man. I think I can promise you he doesn't have a violent bone in his body. If he can possibly help you find Albert Morgan, he will.'

‘Thank you, Bessie, you have been very helpful – but you mentioned half-a-dozen women who would have wished Mrs Morgan in her grave … can you give me names?'

‘That was just my foolish way of saying Kerensa was disliked by a great many women; I wasn't saying any of them would have actually killed her!'

‘Of course not, but
someone
did and one of those women might well be able to point us in the direction of the murderer. Name them for me, Bessie, and tell me why it is they dislike her so much.'

‘It's the same reason with every one of them – Kerensa played fast and loose with their husbands. Mind you, they're only the ones folk knew about – not that Kerensa ever cared overmuch about keeping her goings on secret, not even from her own husband, so perhaps you ought to be speaking to him instead of raking up old scandals that are best forgotten.'

‘They probably would have been forgotten had someone not murdered her and stolen her baby, so if you tell me the names of these women, Sergeant Churchyard and I will be on our way. Horace Morgan has more than enough to cope with at the moment and we have spoken to him on a number of occasions, the last only this morning. I would like to leave him in peace until we have some information for him. As for raking up old scandals … We are not out to break up anyone's marriage, Bessie, we'll be as discreet as is possible given the circumstances, but we do need to talk to them.'

For some moments Bessie thought over what Amos had said. Arriving at a decision, she nodded her head vigorously. ‘It might not hurt to have some husbands reminded of their shortcomings. I'll tell you of a couple of Kerensa's affairs that everyone knew of. One was with George Kendall who lives down by the bridge at Berriow, just below the village here. He's a nasty piece of work who used to be a gamekeeper up at Trelyn until Morgan came along and gave him the sack – possibly because he'd heard about what had gone on between Kendall and his wife. Kendall went to work up at the Notter mine then but he's well known for being handy with his fists, especially where his own wife is concerned. She had two black eyes the day I went to deliver her fifth – another girl – less than a year ago, and she's due her sixth any time now. His affair with Kerensa was the talk of the village for a long time and he wasn't very happy when she upped and married Morgan.

‘Then there's Jowan Hodge. He's a miner, a hard worker and one of the few to make and keep his money when he was working up at the Phoenix mine. He bid for a pitch that turned out to contain a very rich lode and used his earnings to buy shares in the mine. They paid off handsomely and he's worth a bob or two now. That's probably the reason Kerensa latched on to him. Gossip had it they were planning to go off together – and this was after she'd married Morgan. Fortunately, Jowan came to his senses and settled down again with his wife who is a good, sound woman. She comes from a Christian family and goes off preaching when the call comes to her.

‘That's two of 'em for you to be getting on with … but you should have a word with Alfie Kittow too. He's landlord at the Ring o' Bells, right here in the village. Kerensa worked for him – and again, this is just rumour – it might not have been only Alfie's customers she kept happy. If Florrie, Alfie's wife, was at the pub she'd tell you a different story. She and Alfie have always been a close couple, but Florrie hasn't been there for a while. She's lost a few babies in the past, most being stillborn and she's desperate for a child. She went away a while ago and Alfie spread word she was expecting again and had gone back to her family, somewhere outside Cornwall so they would be around to help when her time came, but his story never convinced me. She never looked very pregnant – and I should know a pregnant woman when I see one! I think she might have another reason for going away, but no doubt you'll be able to get to the bottom of it.

‘Anyway, you wanted some names and now you've got 'em, so you can get on your way before I get a bad name for talking too much to policemen.' Tom had been taking notes while Bessie was talking and now he shut his notebook gratefully eager to be first out of the door.

Once outside he took in a deep breath, saying, ‘It's good to be out in the fresh air. I don't think I would want Bessie delivering a baby for anyone in my family!'

‘I agree, Tom, but she has given us more to go on than anyone else we have spoken to.'

‘So, what do we do now?' Tom queried.

‘We'll go to the Ring o' Bells and see what the landlord has to offer by way of food. While we're eating we can have a few words and see if there's any truth in the rumours about him and Kerensa, although I have a feeling he'll prefer telling us more about the other men she met while she was working for him. Either way, it will be worthwhile I don't doubt.'