A Grave Inheritance (17 page)

‘This will be the police,’ David said, at the sound of car doors slamming outside.

Amelia stood and went to open the door.

Chapter 20

Detective Chief Inspector Peter Montrose and Detective Sergeant Robert Fielding arrived at the cottage about six p.m.; almost an hour after David had telephoned them. Montrose had acted as though they were all country bumpkins and commandeered the living room to use for interviews. One by one each took a turn to traipse in and give a statement. David Lanceley had been first and then allowed to go home.

Nathan had given his statement soon after David, but hadn’t been allowed to leave, and now he’d been called back to answer another million questions. Evidently Nathan’s statement was not to the detective’s satisfaction because he could tell Montrose wasn’t happy. Nathan watched while the detective paced up and down the room like a caged tiger; Nathan, the proverbial mouse, waited for him to pounce.

Unconsciously Montrose tapped the end of a biro against his teeth. ‘Run through it with me again, exactly what you did this afternoon,’ he said to Nathan.

Nathan sighed. He’d already gone over it three times already. ‘I keep telling you, I thought it was likely to be someone’s pet,’ Nathan insisted.

Montrose waved his biro in the air, dismissive of excuses. ‘So you arrived here on your Yamaha, about one fifty-five, with Reverend David Lanceley as pillion.’

‘Yes.’ Nathan gave an exasperated sigh.

‘Well, go on lad. What then?’

***

Amelia and Grace sat in the conservatory looking towards the glare of lights set up around the grave. A parade of policemen and presumably a pathologist and photographer shunted in and out and became flickering shadows in between the oak trees. A policewoman stood outside the kitchen door, another on the edge of the so-called crime scene which had been taped off. Amelia looked at her watch. Nathan had been in with the inspector ages and Grace fidgeted worriedly.

‘They have to ask questions, it is part of their job,’ Amelia reassured Grace.

‘How long does it take? It’s obvious to anyone they’ve been buried there for decades. They’re skeletons for goodness sake.’ Before Grace had finished her sentence the door to the living room opened and Nathan came out, followed by Montrose. Nathan’s face was angled away from the inspector and he mouthed something to Grace and winked. Grace looked back at him blankly.

‘Now then,’ DCI Montrose said soberly, not missing the blank expression on Grace’s face, ‘we are going to be making a bit of a mess in the garden I’m afraid.’

‘What else do you expect to find?’ Grace asked.

‘A clue to help identify the remains and why they’re in your garden and not up in the cemetery as you would expect.’ Montrose glanced out of the window at the fluorescent yellow tape weaving in and around the trees. A time-wasting routine in a case like this, he knew, but procedures had to be carried out. ‘The mortuary van should be here soon and once the photographer has finished, the coffin and its contents will be taken away.’ His eyes rested on Amelia, and momentarily Peter Montrose lost his train of thought, forgetting what he was about to say. Recovering his composure he continued, ‘We need to establish the date and the causes of death. When we have this information we’ll begin by checking our records for persons living in the house around that time.’ He hesitated and took a breath, and as though on a magnetic pull his eyes were drawn again to Amelia’s impassive face. A lamp set on a side table shed a pool of restrained light over her features and flamed her bronze curls. Her downcast demeanour and the shadow from the lamp draped dark circles under her eyes. Seeing how tired both girls were he decided to leave any further questioning until the following day. ‘In the meantime you can contact me on this number if you think of anything helpful.’ With a flourish he produced a card and handed it to Amelia.

‘A couple of elderly ladies lived in the cottage after our great aunt died, then went to live in Tapscott Manor Nursing Home. They may be able to help you,’ Amelia told him.

‘Thank you, that is helpful.’ Montrose smiled at her and Amelia shifted in her seat, uncomfortable under his gaze.

‘When will the remains be released for a proper burial?’ Grace wanted to know.

‘We don’t know their identities yet. When we do we shall notify and interview any living relatives. Until then I’m afraid I can’t say.’

‘The headstone has a name and date on it, Detective Chief Inspector.’ Grace looked at the policeman contemptuously. He saw the sadness in her eyes so answered kindly.

‘Yes, it does. Coincidence isn’t it. Same initial and surname as you, Miss Farrell.’ Montrose glanced at Amelia again.

‘The date on the stone is 1912,’ Amelia said, as if this explained everything.

‘But it’s logical to assume we’re related to them in some way, isn’t it?’ Grace insisted.

‘Yes it is, indeed. But I prefer not to jump to conclusions, Miss Farrell, and I suggest you keep an open mind for the time being. Right then,’ Montrose said again. ‘I’ll have another look around outside before I go and then I’ll be off. If you think of something before I go, I’ll be around for another ten minutes or so.’ Montrose stood, hesitated for a moment as if he felt the need to say more, then started for the door.

Amelia slipped his card into her pocket, feeling comforted by it.

***

DCI Montrose waved his torch into the coffin. ‘Bloody hell, Fielding, what’s all this about?’ he said with distaste to the plain clothes detective standing by his side.

‘Don’t know, sir. It’s come as a bit of shock to everyone.’ The young DS answered sombrely.

‘I bet it has. What do we know about these young women? Recently inherited this cottage you say.’ Montrose peered attentively at clods of earth surrounding the open grave. Then he squatted beside the stone slab lying flat and almost hidden in the long grass.

‘Yes, sir, but they wouldn’t have had anything to do with this. These bodies have been buried here for decades. I’d stake my badge on it.’

‘Would you now? I didn’t know you were a forensics expert, Rob. I’ll cancel Doctor Cartwright shall I, tell him you’ll handle it from here?’

DS Fielding’s Adams apple bobbed in his scrawny throat as he swallowed. ‘It’s just a guess, sir, sorry.’ He eyed his boss warily. The rest of the men at the station didn’t reckon much to this new man from the Midlands. They reasoned plenty of local Bobbies were good enough to have got the promotion; some had even put in for it, albeit unsuccessfully. Fielding had kept an open mind and had to admit DCI Montrose knew what he was doing. The young detective was impressed by Montrose’s size and height, a good four inches taller than Fielding and the rest of his colleagues, and from the way Montrose’s shoulders filled his jacket he guessed the DCI was as fit as the proverbial butcher’s dog. It was rumoured he was of Mediterranean descent. Spanish or Italian if the jet black hair, hazel coloured eyes and olive skin was anything to go by. But all in all, if literal push came to shove, Montrose was the kind of man DS Fielding would want on his side.

‘Of course you’re right, any evidence would be long gone by now,’ Montrose conceded half to himself, interrupting Fielding’s appraisal of him. ‘Still, it annoys me, Rob. This isn’t right and proper and it’s why I became a detective. I hate unsolved mysteries.’ He kneeled beside the coffin and looked in without feeling. ‘Aim the torch light in here,’ he commanded, pointing inside the coffin.

DS Fielding obliged and peered in too, his curiosity aroused. A few scraps of material were wedged in a corner and with the end of his pen, Montrose carefully lifted them up to inspect underneath them. Finding nothing of interest, Montrose looked around the clearing and through the trees towards the house. ‘We’re going to find out how a young girl and baby, new-born by the looks of it, came to be buried in someone’s back yard,’ he stated.

‘Yes, sir,’ DS Fielding agreed.

Chapter 21

After the remains had been taken away, Amelia and Grace had felt emotionally and physically exhausted, so it was nearing eleven o’clock the next morning before Amelia finally slouched down into the kitchen. She looked around in despair. There was a sink full of unwashed mugs, cups, plates, brandy glasses and tumblers.. Bits of leftover spaghetti and mince scraped into a bowl now looked ready to walk. The stale air and rank smell, coupled with the effects of the brandy she’d drunk, made her feel nauseous and she stretched over the mess to open a window.

Sipping a hot cup of tea, Amelia mulled over the story Nathan had told them. During the evening he’d asked them if they had a spare room, hinting at the likelihood of a sleepover. Amelia hadn’t taken the bait and thankfully neither had Grace. Amelia half expected him to try and bed down for the night on their sofa. In the end, worried that if he attempted to start his motorbike the police would breathalyse him, Nathan cadged a lift home in one of the squad cars.

Amelia remembered David’s manner and an uneasy feeling came over her. She couldn’t put her finger on it, there was nothing tangible, but last night for instance, on occasion she had found him staring at her, only to look away quickly unable to meet her eye. He’d bowled her over on their first meeting and she’d hoped they might get to know each other better. That wasn’t likely now. How silly she’d been to harbour romantic thoughts about someone she’d just met, a relative stranger. Amelia remembered the effeminate way he’d touched his hair and wondered about the Reverend’s sexuality. She felt irritable and didn’t understand why. It was as though she’d been deprived of some pleasure that now she would never experience.

Shrugging off her dour mood, Amelia washed the dishes and cleaned out the sink. She scraped the leftovers into a bin bag already full of rubbish and carried it outside to the dustbin. The sky overhead was clear.

Back inside the house, she heard Grace coming down the stairs. ‘I’ve made tea, it’s in the pot.’ Amelia greeted her sister cheerfully but with a wary glance.

‘Do you think the police will be back again today?’ Grace asked.

‘Yes, poking about in the garden again, more than likely.’ Amelia noticed Grace had dressed hastily, her cardigan buttoned up askew. She pointed at Grace and laughed. ‘You look how I feel.’

‘I’m not properly awake yet.’ Grace redid her buttons. ‘What about the story Nathan told us? Do you think it has any bearing on our grave?’

‘I don’t see how it can,’ Amelia said in response to Grace’s question.

‘What about Sophia Deverell? If what Nathan said is true and we’re related to her, we should go and see her.’

‘I’m not so sure,’ Amelia said doubtfully.

‘But we have to, don’t we, even if it’s just to introduce ourselves to her. You know like, “Hello Mrs Deverell, we’re Lillian’s great nieces, the offspring of Harry Farrell.” We’ll regret it later if we don’t, and once she pops her clogs it will be too late.’

‘I suppose so, but I think you’re forgetting something.’ Amelia gave a deep sigh. ‘Sophia is half Deverell and was brought up as one. She may not want to be reminded she’s half Farrell. She may not want to know us, especially in the light of what our great grandfather John Farrell is supposed to have done.’

‘She was Lillian’s niece. I don’t believe she wouldn’t want to meet us.’

‘That was before all this business.’ Amelia sighed.

‘Please can we go and see her?’ Grace pleaded.

‘It can’t do any harm I suppose,’ Amelia relented.

‘I’ll ring up the nursing home and see if we have to make an appointment first.’ Grace sounded excited and made for the telephone.

‘Don’t make the appointment for today. I’m too tired and have a million things to do. Make it for later in the week if you can, one afternoon,’ Amelia ordered.

***

Vicky Morris was surprised by Grace’s call. Sophia rarely had any visitors other than her nephew, Reverend Lanceley, so she asked, ‘Are you a friend of hers?’

‘Not really, no. She doesn’t know us, but we’ve just found out we may be related to her, and my sister and I would like to visit,’ Grace explained.

‘Oh, I see,’ Vicky replied doubtfully. ‘I’d better check with Sophia’s nurse to see what time is best and if it’s okay for her to have visitors tomorrow. Hold the line please.’ Grace listened to a recording of Matt Monroe singing ‘Born Free’ and by the time Vicky came back on the line Grace knew the chorus off by heart.

‘Hello Miss Farrell! Are you there?’

‘Yes, I’m still here,’ answered Grace pleasantly.

‘Can you make it on Friday at two p.m.?’

‘Yes, that’s great, thank you very much.’

Grace’s response sounded genuine and Vicky smiled into the receiver. It was nice to hear the enthusiasm. ‘Come into reception first and I’ll direct you to her room.’

‘Thank you.’ Grace replaced the receiver and went to find Amelia.

Vicky Morris scribbled a quick note on her message pad. Her memory wasn’t as good as it used to be. The note was to remind her to let Reverend Lanceley know his aunt was about to have visitors. She doubted he’d be pleased to know that gold diggers were about to ingratiate themselves with his aunt.

***

On Friday, Amelia and Grace set off early to give themselves plenty of time to find the nursing home and soon realised they could have easily walked the short distance instead of taking the car. Because they arrived too early for their visit, Amelia drove along the tree-lined lane slowly, giving them both a chance to see the lovely landscaped gardens and surrounding grounds. Amelia pressed the automatic button to wind down the windows and let in some air. A gurgling sound came from a narrow stream which flowed into a large half-moon-shaped lake, where a myriad of lights danced in its flow. A flurry of ducks skimmed the water’s surface and veered in between the water lilies at its edge, landing in a squabble of feathers. Amelia checked her rear view mirror. No other vehicle was in sight, so she stopped the car to enjoy the view. All around the lake and at its edges small trees and shrubs vied for moisture. At one end of the pond, where it was free of ducks, a weeping willow tilted its drooping branches towards the water, dipping sinewy tips into the smooth surface. The beep of a horn startled Amelia and she set her Peugeot in motion again.