Blood From a Stone (19 page)

She put her head on one side, listening as the grandfather clock in the hallway geared up with a series of clunks and whirrs before it wheezily donged out the time.

‘Eleven o'clock,' said Mrs Mountford. ‘I'll just go and see James knows we're going to have coffee in here instead of the surgery. If you can just excuse me for a few moments ...'

She bustled out of the room, leaving Ashley looking quizzically at Jack.

‘Why d'you want a picture of Bright?'

Jack hesitated. The idea which had seemed so compelling when it had occurred to him minutes before now seemed, as he had to say it out loud, full of flaws.

‘It occurred to me that, as Bright disappeared about a week ago, he could be the man on the train,' he said reluctantly. He saw Ashley's startled expression and held his hands up dismissively. ‘It's just an idea. I know there's a lot of problems with it.'

Ashley sat back, his brow furrowed. ‘I should think there are.' His frown deepened. ‘You and Rackham worked out that the man on the train was an associate of Parsons. That can't be Bright. He's a village lad born and bred. He doesn't sound like much to shout about, I grant you, but he could never have been the associate of a real crook like Parsons. Besides that, he lived here until he was conscripted, and conscription didn't come in until 1916. Parsons was dead by then, or was thought to be, at any rate.'

‘I know, I know,' said Jack.

‘Add to that, whoever the man was, he was an expert safe cracker, otherwise he couldn't have got hold of the sapphires in the first place. I can't see any jobbing gardener having that sort of knowledge. Not and continue to be a gardener, I mean, and Bright had worked for Mrs Paxton since the war, according to Mrs Mountford.'

‘I know,' said Jack. ‘I thought of that almost as soon as I asked about the photo. My idea was to show it to Mr and Mrs Leigh and see if they recognised him as the man who stole the sapphires. It was just the coincidence of dates that got to me.'

Ashley shook his head doubtfully. ‘If his wages had been cut, Bright would want to move on. A handyman and gardener can find work almost anywhere and, from the sound of it, he'd made himself none too popular roundabout.'

‘You're absolutely right,' said Jack as Mrs Mountford came along the hallway, her voice clearly audible.

‘Here's James,' she announced, sweeping into the room ahead of her husband in the manner of a tug-boat towing in an ocean liner.

‘I hope we're not disturbing you, doctor,' said Jack.

‘Not at all. It's a pleasure to meet you.' Dr Mountford hitched his trousers up at the knee and sat down in one of the shabby armchairs, his eyes crinkling indulgently as he looked at his wife. ‘Mildred's been on pins ever since we received your letter. Milly, shall we have coffee?'

‘Yes, dear,' said Mrs Mountford ringing the bell. ‘That's all arranged.'

An elderly parlourmaid brought in the coffee promptly and Mrs Mountford, who was obviously bursting with pride, managed to contain herself until she had poured it out. When the parlourmaid had gone, Mrs Mountford wriggled forward in her chair. ‘Of course, no one knew it was a murder until James spotted it. James was commended by the coroner.'

‘That was very acute of you, sir,' said Ashley warmly.

Dr Mountford's weather-beaten face became slightly more coloured. ‘I knew Mrs Paxton,' he said simply. ‘She was the sort who clung to life.'

He stirred his coffee thoughtfully. ‘There's another thing, too. When I met Terence Napier, I thought he was a thorough-going rotter. Long haired with an affected way of speaking, and, for all Mrs Paxton's obvious affection for him, I didn't think he had any affection for her. To say I was expecting a murder is to put it far too strongly, but I was expecting some sort of trouble. I told that chap, Wood, Mr Leigh's private detective, as much.'

‘Did you know Mrs Paxton had a son?' asked Jack. ‘Before Terence Napier came on the scene, I mean?'

The doctor nodded.

‘You never said anything to me!' interrupted Mrs Mountford indignantly.

Dr Mountford smiled sheepishly and contented himself with a murmur of ‘
Ethics, dear
,' before continuing. ‘Yes, I knew she had a son. She kept his photograph in the parlour. The question is, granted Mrs Paxton told me they were going to Paris to find him, was he in on the scheme with Terence Napier?'

‘It's an intriguing thought,' said Ashley cautiously. ‘However, what I will say, that whether Napier was working alone or in cahoots with Sandy Paxton, he'd have been lucky to have got away with it, even if you hadn't realised it was murder and not suicide.' He put his head on one side and looked at the doctor. ‘It was you who spotted the will was false, wasn't it, sir?'

‘I suppose it was,' said Dr Mountford, rubbing the side of his nose in an embarrassed sort of way, ‘but anyone who knew anything about Topfordham would've seen it. That was sheer bad luck for Napier. I suppose he just copied the signatures from the previous will and left it at that. If he'd known more about
the village he wouldn't have made the mistake of having two witnesses who were dead.'

Mrs Mountford wriggled in her chair. ‘I don't understand, James. Surely if Sandy Paxton was behind the plan – although it seems a very wicked plan indeed – it would've been easier for him to come home and charm his mother into altering her will.'

‘You're forgetting who Sandy Paxton is, Milly,' said Dr Mountford. ‘He's a deserter. That, by itself, wouldn't matter in this day and age and that's what I told Mrs Paxton. However, not to put too fine a point on it, he is or was a crook and that
does
matter. With that black mark against his name, he wouldn't be offered amnesty. He'd have every chance of going to prison for desertion and there's probably other offences outstanding as well.' Dr Mountford sucked his cheeks in. ‘I'd say it would be very awkward for our Mr Paxton to claim anything his mother left him in her will.'

‘That's very true, doctor,' said Ashley, ‘but I still think Napier would've been lucky to have got away with it.'

‘It might've been more convincing, if Terence Napier had been given more time, Ashley,' said Jack. ‘Say Mrs Paxton and Napier hadn't quarrelled. Napier could have become a regular visitor and no one would have thought anything of it.'

‘But surely Mrs Paxton would realise she'd been swindled as soon as she saw her will?' asked Mrs Mountford.

‘If she'd seen the will, she'd certainly know it was a forgery,' agreed Jack, ‘but I very much doubt Napier would leave it in the desk. If he'd had enough time, he could have put the will into her papers after she died without anyone being any the wiser. It sounds as if the quarrel caught him on the hop, so he had to act quickly and hope for the best.'

‘It's all very sad,' said Mrs Mountford with a sigh. ‘You think so too, don't you, James?'

The doctor nodded gravely and, taking his pipe from his pocket, absently filled it with tobacco from the jar. ‘Very sad, indeed. After Mrs Paxton spoke to me about going to Paris with Napier, I was worried. She was certain of success. I knew she'd be heartbroken if she didn't find him and, from what she'd told me of young Paxton, thought there was every chance she'd end up being heartbroken if she did.'

His face lengthened. ‘It's hard to explain the Sandy Paxtons of this world. He seemed to have every advantage and yet he went wrong. From what I could make out, his mother made excuses for him and covered things up, and was rewarded with crocodile tears and promises of reform. It's the psychology of the thing I find interesting.'

Ashley blinked and Dr Mountford smiled fleetingly. ‘Even in a one-horse place like this, we've heard of psychology. You know he became an actor after he was sent down from Oxford? Mrs Paxton didn't approve, but still continued to support him. What she did resent – resented bitterly – was him marrying an actress.'

‘I didn't know he was married,' said Jack in surprise. ‘Neither Frank Leigh nor his daughter, Celia, mentioned it.'

‘He had the sense to keep it quiet,' said Dr Mountford. ‘When his mother
did
find out, she was furious. She read him the riot act and cut off her support. She'd been supplanted, you see, and Mrs Paxton wasn't a woman to forgive or forget very easily.'

Mrs Mountford shook her head sadly. ‘I can't imagine treating any of our boys like that.'

‘I'm glad to say you're a very different person, Milly,' said the doctor. He sighed. ‘To be fair to Mrs Paxton, none of our boys gave us anything like the problems Sandy gave his mother. She did try.'

‘You said that she tried to get him into the Church,' said Mrs Mountford, with an ironic twist to her voice. ‘Goodness knows why. From what James has told me it's hard to think of a less likely profession for him to adopt.'

‘She didn't try and get him into the Church, Milly,' said the doctor. ‘She said she hoped he
might
enter the Church
,
which is a very different state of affairs. One of his friends was a minister, or so he told his mother, at any rate, and he wanted to follow in his footsteps. It seems pretty unlikely to me.'

Jack, cup of coffee in hand, froze. ‘A
minister
?' he repeated slowly.

‘That's what she said. She believed him. I don't know if I would.'

‘I might,' said Jack. ‘Did she say
minister
, doctor, or
vicar
?'

Beside him, Ashley let out a sudden breath. ‘By George!' he muttered. ‘The Vicar!'

The doctor and Mrs Mountford looked at them curiously. ‘She said
vicar
, I think,' said the doctor. ‘The two terms are more or less interchangeable, aren't they?'

‘Yes,' said Jack, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. ‘Yes, I believe they are.'

In the small and inquisitive village of Topfordham, it was hard to find somewhere where they were free from observation, but the Malt and Shovel was a haven of calm.

Two middle-aged clerks were taking an early lunch, three travelling salesmen, identified by their cases of samples, were playing five-o-one on the dart board and six elderly, bewhiskered men, pipes lit and half-pints close to hand, were bent over a game of dominoes. A ginger cat was spread somnolently in the warmth of the diamond-barred sunshine flooding through the leaded window onto the oak window sill.

By common consent, neither Jack nor Ashley said anything about the case until they were sitting at a table by the window with a pint of bitter, a cheese sandwich and a pork pie apiece.

Ashley took a swig of beer and wiped his mouth. ‘What d'you reckon?' he asked.

‘It's interesting, isn't it?' said Jack. ‘Where on earth have all the servants got to?'

Ashley looked at him, beer in hand. ‘I can't see there's any great mystery about that, Haldean. I'd have expected you to be leaping up and down about the Vicar, not fretting about the servants.'

‘Never mind about the Vicar for a minute. I'll leap as high as you like later. What about the servants? Don't you think it's odd that they've all vanished?'

Ashley shrugged expressively. ‘Not really. Mrs Paxton was dead, the house was shut up and, although Mrs Leigh was probably only too happy for them to keep the place aired, she was only paying them a pittance to do it. You can't expect them to stay on in those circumstances.'

Jack put his hands wide. ‘Perhaps, but wouldn't you expect them to mention where they were going? Maybe Mrs Welbeck did just take herself off but what about Florence? And what was she, to use Mrs Mountford's expression, cooking up with John Bright?'

‘Who knows?' said Ashley without much interest, cutting his pork pie into segments. ‘Where they were going to run off together, perhaps?'

‘They left separately.'

‘All right. So Mrs Welbeck goes off to Leeds, Florence decides to try her luck in London and John Bright can't get another job in the village so he ups and offs. It's only when you put all three of them together that it seems mysterious they've all gone.'

‘I was wondering if there was a common reason,' said Jack. ‘And if that common reason had something to do with Terence Napier.'

Ashley munched his way through a portion of pork pie before replying. ‘It seems unlikely,' he said eventually. ‘Napier slung his hook double quick, didn't he? I can't see him sneaking back into the village and picking them off, one by one, if that's what you're getting at.'

‘That does seem unlikely, I agree,' said Jack. ‘What I actually had in mind, you melodramatic old thing, was that they know where Napier is and he's bribed them to keep quiet. Actually,' he added, clicking his tongue, ‘it would have to be no end of a bribe and they could stick around and be quiet without having to vanish into thin air. All right, let's say he's murdered them.'

‘Come off it,' said Ashley. ‘Bodies are blinking hard to dispose of. What would he do with them? He could hardly leave them lying about.'

‘The dustmen would probably complain,' said Jack with a grin. ‘I'll be honest, Ashley, I don't know what could have happened to them, but it just seemed so very odd.'

‘What about Sandy Paxton?' questioned Ashley. ‘That sounded a great deal more promising. I saw your eyes light up when the Mountfords talked about him going into the Church. I'm assuming, as you assumed, that what Paxton actually meant was that he'd taken up with Parsons, the Vicar. It sounds more probable than him actually considering holy orders.'

‘I couldn't help
but
think it,' said Jack, taking a tentative bite of pie. ‘Isabelle suggested that Paxton was the Vicar himself.'

‘I don't think much of that idea.'

‘That's more or less what I said. To be fair to her, as soon as the notion of the Vicar having an associate was floated, she suggested Paxton as a candidate, so that's one up to her. I like the idea of him telling his mother he was considering the Church. It would appeal to a certain sort of humour, you know? The sort of person who enjoys flaunting a secret. It's a sort of dare to themselves, I suppose.'