The Tewkesbury Tomb (7 page)

‘Nonsense, man!' retorted Ross, glaring at Ravenscroft. ‘If I had killed the man, as you suggest, why would I have then returned to the abbey when the others arrived?'

‘You tell me Mr Ross.'

‘I've told you, I arrived at the abbey just after the others. I was late because I had just ridden all the way through the rain from here to Tewkesbury.'

‘It must have been a terrible journey for you,' remarked Crabb.

‘We Scots are used to the bad weather.'

‘I still do not see why you and five other intelligent people would make all this effort to travel to a town which none of you appear ever to have visited before, just because some stranger had told you all that you were all descendants of a medieval Templar Knight. What were you all really after, Mr Ross? What really bought you all to Tewkesbury? Was it something inside that tomb that you were all seeking?'

‘I have told you all I know.'

‘I am determined to discover the truth, and if you cannot provide me with the answers I require, I am afraid I will have no recourse but to take you into custody. Crabb, the cuffs, if you will.'

‘You cannot do that, man,' protested Ross.

‘I think you will find that I can,' replied Ravenscroft firmly.

‘All right, Ravenscroft, I suppose you will not let this matter rest until I tell you all that I know. The man told me that there was a goblet,' sighed Ross.

‘Go on, sir,' said Ravenscroft, hoping that at last he was about to learn the truth.

‘The man Crosbie showed me a document which he said was the last will and testament of Sir Roger de la Pole. Apparently whilst on the crusades in Jerusalem he had acquired a valuable goblet of some kind, made of gold, encrusted with rich stones, and had bought it back to Tewkesbury with him. The paper said that the goblet had been hidden but that it could be claimed by any of his descendents who could find it,' replied Ross, somewhat reluctantly.

‘I see,' said Ravenscroft.

‘All sounds a bit far fetched, if you ask me,' uttered Crabb looking up from his pocket book.

‘That was exactly my own thought, Constable. The whole thing sounded a complete fabrication invented by an
overjealous 
criminal mind.'

‘So that's what enticed everyone to meet outside the abbey,' said Ravenscroft. ‘The promise of the discovery of a medieval jewel-enrusted goblet.'

‘I did not believe a word of it, of course. As I said before, I just wanted to see what the charlatan was up to,' added Ross.

‘Tell me, sir, did this Mr Crosbie ever extract any money from you during your meeting with him?'

‘No. There was never any talk of money or payment.'

‘I see. Did Crosbie give any indication as to where this supposed gold goblet was likely to be found?' asked Ravenscroft.

‘None – but he believed we might discover its whereabouts if we located the tomb of Sir Roger in the abbey. He believed that the tomb might provide us with some kind of clue as to where the goblet was to be found. It was all nonsense, of course.'

‘As you say, Mr Ross, all nonsense, and yet five other people seem to have believed in this so-called nonsense.'

‘That was their business. Now, I have told you all that I know.'

‘Thank you, Mr Ross. I will now be returning to Tewkesbury to have words with the other five people, to see if they can add anything to what you have told us. I would be greatly obliged if you would accompany us there.'

‘Whatever for, Inspector? I've told you all I know,' protested Ross.

‘It is important to our investigations that I speak to all six of you together, and that the others are able to confirm your story,' urged Ravenscroft.

‘I don't really see—'

‘I have to remind you, sir, that a murder has taken place, and I have reason to believe that the outrage can only have been committed by one of your party. It is imperative that you return with us now to Tewkesbury,' said Ravenscroft, raising
his voice, as Crabb coughed and took a step forward in Ross's direction.

‘Very well then. If you two gentlemen would give me a minute or two to change my clothes and prepare for the journey,' said the Scotsman, reluctantly.

‘Of course, sir. My constable and I will wait outside for you,' said Ravenscroft turning away and walking towards the door.

‘Well, sir, do you believe all that nonsense about the gold goblet?' asked Crabb as he and his superior made their way back to the waiting horse and trap.

‘To tell you the truth, Tom, I don't know quite what to think. If Ross is telling us the truth, then that would explain why the six members of our group all decided to keep their appointment with the mysterious Crosbie, Stanhope, or whatever his real name was, outside the abbey. Each one of them must have thought that they would be able to find the goblet. The prospect of obtaining riches would have bought them all to Tewkesbury.'

‘Or curiosity?'

‘Indeed. Like Ross, one, or all of them, probably realized that the whole fantastic thing was a giant hoax, and yet were determined to see what the eventual outcome would be. Still it seems rather a long journey for them to have made just to satisfy their curiosity.'

‘Ross could have just made the whole thing up,' suggested Crabb.

‘He could have done, in which case this whole goblet story is pure invention. That is why I was so insistent that he accompany us back to Tewkesbury. Once he tells his account before the others, we can then confront them with the story and see what their reactions are. If the story is true, at least then we will know what was the real motive for the murder.'

‘Do you think that goblet could have been inside the tomb?'

‘That may be so, in which case one of the group may have met the deceased man earlier in the evening, and together they raised the lid of the sarcophagus, and finding that neither of them was able to reach the goblet, the deceased man climbed in, handed the item to our killer, who then decided to keep it for himself. After killing the unfortunate Crosbie, and finding that he could not replace the stone slab, our killer then made sure that he kept his appointment with the others, thereby ensuring that they would all discover the body together and avoid suspicion falling upon himself.'

‘It all sounds all very neat, sir, but you keep saying “him”. Can I take it then that you are discounting Miss Eames from your list of suspects?' asked Crabb.

‘Not at all. We know that the slab could not be moved by one man on his own, but I have no doubt that it could be moved by a man and woman together. Any one of our group could have been the killer.'

‘My money is on Ross. Don't like him at all. I thought he was rather a shifty-looking character – and what a strange miserable place to live in.'

‘I agree with you. I don't think I have set foot in such a wretched, cold, uninviting room as that one. No wonder Ross has such a hacking cough. How anyone can live there I do not know. There was hardly a stick of furniture in the room, and as for that fire, well it had clearly been dying for days. I can't say I took to our host either. There was a strange coldness about the man that I found unsettling. Did you notice how he avoided answering any of my questions directly? It was as though he did not want us to look into his eyes. Clearly he has more to tell us. But to return to Sir Roger. If Ross's story is true, then the goblet, or something else of value, must have been inside that
tomb. However, we may be getting ahead of ourselves and letting our imaginations run wild. There may be no gold goblet at all. We still have to make our way back to Tewkesbury and confront the others. Where the devil is that fellow Ross? He seems to be taking rather a long time in preparing himself for our journey.'

‘You don't think he has changed his mind, sir?'

Ravenscroft looked at Crabb, then both of them ran quickly back towards the house.

‘The door is open,' said Ravenscroft stepping into the room once more and calling out.

‘No answer, sir.'

‘There is another room off this one. Perhaps he is in there.'

‘I'll take a look,' said Crabb, entering the other chamber. ‘Nothing there, sir, only an old bed.'

‘Then Ross must have slipped out of the house when we were not looking.'

‘I think we would have seen him,' said Crabb, returning to the main room.

‘Well, he does not appear to be here. I agree with you. I was sure that we were facing the house all the time and would have seen him had he left the building.'

‘It must have been the fog, sir.'

‘Damn it, Crabb, we should have secured him while we could. How foolish of us to have let him slip through our fingers,' said an annoyed Ravenscroft.

‘We could take a look outside.'

‘No point. The fog is too thick – and we have no indication as to which way he may have gone. Our Mr Ross clearly had no intention of accompanying us.'

‘What now, sir?'

‘There is nothing else for it – we must return to Tewkesbury
as soon as possible, and confront our suspects with the story of the missing gold goblet. It will be interesting to see what they have to say.'

‘Well, Crabb, let us see what our five friends have to say for themselves, when we confront them with this goblet story,’ said Ravenscroft, as he and his constable pushed open the door of the Hop Pole.

‘Pity we couldn’t have bought along that Ross character,’ replied Crabb.

‘Ross can wait. We can easily return there once we have uncovered the truth about this affair.’

As the two men entered the main room of the inn, Ravenscroft observed that only Jenkins, Ganniford and Miss Eames were present. ‘Gentlemen, Miss Eames, forgive the lateness of our arrival. Unfortunately the weather was inclement out near Bredon and our departure was somewhat delayed.’

‘And did you find this Ross fellow?’ enquired Ganniford in his usual forthright manner, coming forward to meet them.

‘We did indeed, and he was able to assist us greatly in our enquiries,’ replied Ravenscroft, observing that Ganniford gave his friend a quick sideways glance.

‘Has Mr Ross returned with you, Mr Ravenscroft?’ asked Miss Eames eagerly.

‘Alas, no; Mr Ross seems to have had another appointment,’ smiled Ravenscroft.

‘Well, there you are then. Told you the fellow was suspicious. You should have arrested him straight away, while you had the chance,’ muttered Ganniford squeezing his frame once more into the leather armchair before the fire.

‘Do you happen to know whether Dr Hollinger and Major Anstruther are going to join us?’ enquired Ravenscroft, seeking to ignore the previous remark.

‘Deuce if I know where they are,’ proclaimed Ganniford reaching out with his boot to prod the edge of one of the logs that was slumbering in the hearth.

‘I’m afraid we have not seen either of the two gentlemen in question this morning,’ offered Jenkins.

‘Crabb, go and find the rooms in which these two gentlemen reside, and if they are there, ask them to join us if you will,’ instructed Ravenscroft.

‘Very well, sir.’

‘So, what did this Ross say to you?’ asked Ganniford after the constable had left the room.

‘Mr Ross was quite forthcoming, but I would rather wait until we are all present, Mr Ganniford,’ replied Ravenscroft, seating himself in one of the armchairs.

‘Do you think it will be possible, Inspector, for us to leave after you have informed us of the details of your visit to Mr Ross?’ asked Jenkins. ‘We would appreciate it if you would allow us to catch the afternoon train back to London.’

‘I cannot say, sir, whether that will be possible at this stage.’

‘Insufferable,’ uttered Ganniford, turning away with a look of disdain.

The four occupants of the room sat in silence for some minutes, listening to the grandfather clock ticking in the corner and watching the logs burning in the hearth.

‘I think you had better come quickly, sir,’ said a breathless, ashen-faced Crabb suddenly entering the room.

Ravenscroft took one look at his constable and sprang to his feet.

‘Whatever is the matter?’ asked Ganniford, struggling to raise himself from his seat.

‘This way, sir,’ said Crabb.

‘We will come with you,’ said Jenkins.

‘I think it would be better if the lady and gentlemen remained here,’ blurted out an anxious Crabb.

‘Look here, if there is something afoot—’ began Ganniford.

‘I’m afraid I must insist that you all remain here,’ said Ravenscroft firmly. ‘I can assure you that we will return as soon as possible.’

‘Up the stairs to Number Five, sir,’ said Crabb, leading the way along the corridor. ‘It’s Dr Hollinger. Something terrible has happened to him! I’m afraid it’s not a pleasant sight.’

The two men ran up the stairs, Ravenscroft nearly colliding with the chambermaid on the landing, before Crabb pushed open one of the bedroom doors.

‘Good God!’ exclaimed Ravenscroft looking down at the bloodstained sheets on the bed. ‘Hollinger. Someone has stabbed Hollinger!’

‘I came as soon as I found him,’ said Crabb, recoiling into the corner of the room and bringing a pocket handkerchief up to his nose.

‘Quickly – lock the door, Tom. We don’t want anyone else coming in here,’ said Ravenscroft, approaching the bed and gently pulling back the blood-soaked upper sheet. ‘What a mess.
It looks as though Hollinger has been stabbed at least three times in the chest and stomach.’

‘Terrible business, sir.’

‘Why on earth would anyone want to do this to poor Hollinger? I cannot understand why he has been killed like this. Look around the floor, Crabb, and see if you can find a knife, or anything of a similar nature.’

‘Terrible,’ muttered a mesmerized Crabb staring down at the corpse.

‘Tom, look for a weapon,’ repeated Ravenscroft firmly, anxious that his subordinate should be fully occupied.

‘Yes, sir,’ replied Crabb quickly turning away and beginning the search.

‘Whoever killed Hollinger certainly wanted to make sure that he was dead. I would say that he was killed several hours ago, probably during the night, by the state of this congealed blood,’ said Ravenscroft peering over the body. ‘There is not much sign of a struggle, and the furniture is not disturbed, which would suggest that he was killed whilst he was asleep.’

‘Here it is, sir,’ said Crabb, holding up a large bloodstained knife. ‘It was on the floor in the corner.’

‘Our killer must have thrown it there, after he had used it to kill poor Hollinger,’ said Ravenscroft taking the knife from Crabb and examining the blade. ‘It certainly is a nasty item, Tom. Not the kind of knife used by either a butcher or surgeon. More like an old army knife, I would think. Let us take a further look round the room and see what we can find. Ah, see here, Tom, bloodstained water! Our killer poured out some water from the jug into the bowl and then washed his hands after committing the deed. Ah, yes, and here is the towel he then wiped them on. There are traces of blood on it. I think our murderer was anxious that his hands would be clean in case he
encountered anyone outside the room upon his departure.’

‘What about his clothes?’ asked Crabb.

‘I would have thought there would certainly have been blood on his clothing. As the killer stabbed downwards, and then repeated his action a further two times, withdrawing the knife each time, some of the blood would probably have spurted upwards. If he did not want to run the risk of possibly meeting someone outside the room whilst effecting his escape, then he would have either discarded the bloodstained clothes in here, or attempted to have cleaned them before he left.’

‘There are some clothes on the chair over here,’ said Crabb.

‘Almost certainly Hollinger’s. Neatly folded and no stains on them,’ said Ravenscroft, drawing the sheet over the bloody corpse before crossing over the room to examine the clothing. ‘And there are his expensive pocket watch and spectacles on the bedside cabinet. As they have not been taken, I think we can safely conclude that whoever killed Hollinger did not commit such a terrible deed to acquire his valuables. It looks as though our killer must have washed away any surplus blood off his own clothes, before he left the room – unless of course he was staying in the inn and knew that his own room was but a short distance away, either next door, or in close proximity along the same landing. Do we know which rooms our four other suspects occupy?’

‘I took the liberty of asking the man downstairs before I came up here. Ganniford occupies the next room on the left-hand side, then Jenkins, with Major Anstruther on the other side. Miss Eames apparently has a room on the lower floor.’

‘So it would have been easy for either Ganniford, Jenkins or Anstruther to have slipped out of this room unnoticed and quickly enter their own room. It would have been more difficult for Miss Eames.’

‘Surely you cannot suspect her of such a vicious act?’ asked Crabb. ‘She is too quiet and unassuming to be such a killer.’

‘Appearances can sometimes be deceptive. Some of the most terrible unholy killers in history have been women. If Hollinger was fast asleep, it would not have taken much for a woman to have brought down the knife on him, and the quick succession of the second and third blows would have made sure that he had no time to defend himself. I would say that it was probably the first blow that went close to the poor man’s heart.’

‘Hollinger would have known nothing,’ said a subdued Crabb, shaking his head.

‘Probably better that way, although who can say what agonies could sweep over one in the moment of death? We must also consider Ross.’

‘Ross?’

‘Yes, Ross. He could have returned here in the middle of last night, crept into the bedroom, killed Hollinger and then made sure of his escape in the darkness. Had he been wearing a cape or other kind of outer garment, he could have removed it before killing Hollinger, then used it to conceal his blood-spattered clothes. At the moment, however, that is all conjecture. We have no evidence against anyone,’ said Ravenscroft, turning away from the blood-soaked bed.

‘Ghastly business,’ added Crabb.

‘We are missing one thing in all this, Tom – where is Major Anstruther?’

‘I did not go to his room. I came here first.’

‘Then I think we should go there now, before we proceed any further.’

‘You don’t think that he has also been killed?’ asked Crabb, with a look of alarm.

‘I don’t know what to think, Tom,’ interrupted Ravenscroft.
‘Lock the door behind you as we leave. We do not want any of the others coming in here.’

The two men closed the door behind them and made their way to the room next door.

Ravenscroft tapped on the wood and, receiving no reply, attempted to force open the door. ‘Locked. Go and get someone to open it. I don’t want to make a disturbance by forcing the door.’

Crabb quickly disappeared from view, leaving his superior officer to contemplate the events of the past few minutes. Hollinger’s sudden death was the last thing he had expected, and Ravenscroft was now forced to accept that the doctor’s killing had changed the whole complexion of the case. He had expected to confront his five suspects with Ross’s account of the golden goblet. Now he was faced with another murder enquiry. Worse still, he was apprehensive as to what might be found the other side of the closed door.

‘Ah there you are. We need you to open this door for us,’ instructed Ravenscroft when Crabb returned with the innkeeper.

‘This is rather unusual, sir,’ protested the man.

‘This is police business. Kindly open the door for us.’

The man turned the key in the lock.

‘Thank you. You may go now. You can leave this to us,’ said Ravenscroft, his hand on the door handle, anxious not to open the door until the owner had departed.

The man gave them a worried look before making his way down the stairs.

‘Right. I’ll go in first,’ said Ravenscroft slowly opening the door. A hesitant, nervous Crabb followed him into the room. ‘Empty! No one here. Anstruther must have left and locked the door behind him.’

‘Look, sir, on the floor,’ said Crabb, pointing to some garments
in the corner of the room.

Ravenscroft knelt down and picked up a shirt and pair of trousers. ‘See the bloodstains. The shirt in particular is well covered. Our murderer must have been wearing these when he killed Hollinger. See if you can find anything else that might have belonged to Anstruther.’

‘Nothing else here, sir,’ said Crabb, after searching round the room.

‘Exactly as I would have expected. It looks as though Anstruther killed Hollinger, after which he discarded his blood-soaked clothes, before changing into new apparel. He then appears to have then left, taking all his luggage with him.’

‘So it was Anstruther who killed Hollinger. He probably killed the man in the coffin as well.’

Ravenscroft said nothing as he walked round the room, examining the rest of its contents with interest. Crabb stood still wondering what course of action his superior officer would now embark upon.

‘There is nothing else here of interest,’ said Ravenscroft presently. ‘We need to know what time Hollinger and Anstruther retired last night, and whether anyone saw the major leaving. I’ll go and break the news of Hollinger’s death to our three remaining suspects, whilst you go to the mortuary and ask them to come and collect Hollinger’s body.’

‘Well, what’s happened?’ asked an agitated Ganniforcd, as Ravenscroft returned to the downstairs room.

‘I’m afraid I have some rather bad news concerning Dr Hollinger—’ began Ravenscroft.

‘Oh no!’ exclaimed Miss Eames, drawing her hand quickly to her face.

‘Here, take a seat, my dear lady,’ said Ganniford steering the
lady in the direction of one of the armchairs.

‘I have to tell you all that we have just found Doctor Hollinger dead in his bedroom. He appears to have been cruelly stabbed.’

Miss Eames let out a cry, as Ganniford took hold of her arm and eased his charge into the chair.

‘Stabbbed to death you say?’ said a stunned Jenkins.

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘And Major Anstruther?’ asked the antiquary.

‘There is no sign of the major in his room. He appears to have left sometime ago.’

‘You don’t think the major killed poor Dr Hollinger?’ asked a tearful Miss Eames.

‘There, there now, Miss Eames. Do not distress yourself, my dear lady,’ said Ganniford trying to sound as comforting as he could.

‘My constable has gone to fetch assistance. In the meantime, I must ask each of you when you last saw the doctor and the major.’

‘We all had dinner together last night, then afterwards we sat in the snug drinking,’ offered Jenkins, recovering his composure and speaking in his usual matter-of-fact voice, before removing his spectacles and cleaning them on his handkerchief.

‘And after that?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘I retired at around ten,’ said a tearful Miss Eames.

‘I left shortly afterwards – about ten-thirty,’ offered Ganniford.

‘Mr Jenkins?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘I retired just before eleven. I left the major and the doctor talking together down here.’

‘Do you happen to recall what the two gentlemen were talking about?’