The Droitwich Deceivers (2 page)

CHAPTER ONE

Ledbury. April 1890.

‘S
amuel.’

‘Yes, my dear,’ replied the detective without looking up from his writing.

‘Are you particularly busy at the moment?’ asked Lucy.

‘Just completing my monthly report, that is all.’

‘And does your report contain anything of startling importance?’

‘If you call the arrest of yet another of the Leewood clan for attempting to break into the town office buildings, and the rounding up of those two vagrants in the market place last week, major crimes, then yes, I suppose my report must be of the greatest importance to the police authorities,’ grumbled Ravenscroft, throwing down his pen in annoyance.

‘I am so sorry—’ began Lucy.

‘No, it is I who must apologize. You find me in a bad humour this evening. You must excuse me. It is just that life has been so dull and uneventful of late. Since that business in Tewkesbury last year there has been nothing to interest me at all. Not a decent robbery for months! No attempted murders! No major disturbances! I do not know what the world is coming to. I might as well not be here,’ continued Ravenscroft in the same gloomy vein.

‘There was that rather vicious argument outside the Feathers last month,’ offered Lucy.

‘Just two Irish navies who were celebrating St. Patrick’s day. They soon sobered up after a night in the cells.’

‘And don’t forget that runaway horse which galloped all along the Homend, and who then threatened to turn over all the market stalls.’

‘Tom soon brought it under control.’

‘And then there was that one-eyed poacher who said he would burn down the church if the vicar ever—’

‘Yes, yes, I know,’ protested an irritated Ravenscroft.

‘Perhaps it is your presence here that has lead to the reduction in crime in Ledbury? I am sure any suspicious person, intent on criminal activity in this town, upon learning of your presence here, would quickly take himself off to Hereford or Worcester, or some other such place, to commit his unlawful outrage there.’

‘Stop teasing me,’ laughed Ravenscroft getting up from the table and walking over to the empty chair set before the blazing fire.

‘Yes, I suppose life must be very dull after all your years in Whitechapel. Do you not sometimes wish you were back there again?’

‘Not for one second, my dear. I did my time in London; let others now try to bring law and order to that den of iniquity. Fortunately you saved me from all that. I am a bad fellow indeed to complain when I have such a wife and children to make me happy. I suppose I only have one regret in leaving there.’

‘Oh, and what might that be?’ asked Lucy placing her book on the small side-table near her chair.

‘I only wish I had been there when that Jack the Ripper character was about his work.’

‘Oh Samuel, you surely don’t think that you could have bought him to book, when everyone else failed?’

‘I would have had a jolly good try. Every criminal makes a mistake, that leads to his arrest, sooner or later. It is all just a matter of time,’ said Ravenscroft warming his hands before the fire.

‘Well, no one caught the “Ripper”.’

‘No, I suppose they did not. I often wonder what happened to the fellow? Perhaps he just went off somewhere else and died – fell into a lake and drowned, slipped off the edge of a cliff, or got run over by a train, or something like that. Perhaps he is just biding his time, waiting to commit some further atrocity. Who knows? Anyway I am tired of all that. That’s all in the past. What have you been reading my dear?’

‘
The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde
by Robert Louis Stevenson,’ replied Lucy.

‘Oh Stevenson. Didn’t he write
Treasure Island?
“Ho, ho, and a bottle of rum”; “pieces of eight” and all that?’

‘Yes he did.’

‘So what is so strange about this Jekyll and Hyde?’ asked Ravenscroft affecting a mild interest.

‘Well, they are both the same person.’

‘Both the same person?’

‘Yes. Doctor Jekyll is a kind, considerate man, a bit like you Samuel, but then he makes up this strange potion which he drinks and then he becomes this horrible man called Mr Hyde, who of course is nothing at all like you Samuel, even when you are in one of your bad moods.’

‘I don’t have bad moods,’ protested Ravenscroft. ‘I admit I get a little unsettled at times, usually when I am bored. Nothing a good crime waiting to be solved would not cure. Anyway no more of that. Tell me more about your book. I’m intrigued.’

‘Well there isn’t much more to say really, just that each time Dr Jekyll takes the potion he becomes more and more horrible and commits all kinds of terrible things.’

‘Interesting.’

‘I suppose the author is trying to say that we all have two sides to our character; one half of us is good, whilst the other is, well, bad.’

‘I can see what he is getting at. I have certainly known men, and women, who have appeared quite respectable on the outside, who nevertheless concealed the most appalling criminal intentions. The good often masks the evil. You must tell me what happens to your Doctor Jekyll when you have finished your book. I trust he gets bought to account for his bad deeds.’

‘Yes, perhaps he does,’ replied Lucy turning away and looking into the fire.

Ravenscroft picked up the newspaper which lay on the table next to his arm chair, and turned over the front page.

‘Samuel,’ said Lucy breaking the silence, after some minutes had elapsed.

‘I knew it,’ said Ravenscroft lowering his paper and peering over the top of his spectacles. ‘I knew you were just waiting to talk to me.’

‘Well yes, but you were busy at the time.’

‘You have my undivided attention now, my dear,’ smiled Ravenscroft folding the newspaper and placing it on a side-table.

‘Well, I have been thinking, quite seriously, of late, that perhaps we should all move elsewhere,’ said Lucy leaning forwards to face her husband.

‘Move elsewhere? I thought you liked Ledbury. We are all quite comfortable here, are we not?’

‘Well yes, I suppose so, but that is the problem. Richard is
nearly seven years of age, and little Arthur is now four months old and will soon be in need of his own room. I fear we are all running out of space.’

‘Running out of space?’ frowned Ravenscroft.

‘It’s all right for you of course, you are out most of the day, you don’t notice these things, but when Susan is looking after Arthur in one room, and I am in here giving one of my students a piano lesson, poor Richard just has nowhere to play.’

‘Nowhere to play?’ interrupted Ravenscroft picking up his newspaper once more.

‘Oh Samuel do listen – and stop repeating everything I say,’ replied a frustrated Lucy.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Ravenscroft trying to sound sympathetic. ‘I had not realized that things had become so difficult for you.’

‘This is quite a small cottage, Samuel. When I first came here there was just Richard and I. Susan only came during the day. Then you arrived. Then Arthur was born – and then Susan had to move in full time to look after him, and then she had to have her own room to sleep in.’

‘I see the problem. What do you suggest then, my dear?’ said Ravenscroft throwing another log on the fire.

‘Well perhaps we should look around for something a little larger, somewhere with an extra room, or two, and a garden would be quite nice, not a large garden, just a small lawn, where Richard and Arthur could play when the weather is fine.’

‘I see,’ nodded Ravenscroft.

‘I know your remuneration is not large, but now that we have a bit put by, I think we could afford something else which would be more in keeping with your position.’

‘And have you considered where we might move to? It may be difficult for us to leave Ledbury, unless another situation
becomes available elsewhere. I know that both Worcester and Hereford are fully staffed at present. And then I don’t know of any suitable properties in Ledbury.’

‘There are plenty of properties available in Malvern,’ suggested Lucy.

‘Malvern?’

‘I notice that you spend quite a deal of your time there, and Ledbury is still quite near for you to travel to everyday if you need to,’ said Lucy becoming more animated as she rose from her chair and walked over to her husband. ‘In fact, yesterday when I was in Malvern I went into one or two agents, and acquired the particulars of some rather interesting houses that are available to rent.’

‘I see. You have been busy, my dear.’

‘There is a particularly pleasant house near the common at the Wells, which has a delightful drawing room with a large window that overlooks the garden, which I know the children would enjoy. It has such a fine view. It also has an extra two bedrooms, one of which would form a very nice nursery for Arthur.’

‘It would appear that you have already been to view the property.’

‘I knew that you would not mind, Samuel. You must really come and see it, as soon as you are free. I know that once you have seen—’

Lucy’s flow of words was suddenly interrupted by a loud knock on the front door.

‘Whoever can that be at this time of night,’ said Ravenscroft rising from his chair.

‘It’s Constable Crabb sir,’ interrupted the maid entering the room closely followed by the young fresh-faced constable.

‘Hello Tom, what brings you out here at such a late hour?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘I’m sorry to intrude sir, Mrs Ravenscroft. I hope I am not disturbing you?’

‘That’s quite all right, Tom. We were not doing anything of great importance. You look quite out of breath,’ said Ravenscroft.

Lucy let out a deep sigh as she regained her seat.

‘Urgent message from Sir Charles Chilton. You are to come at once,’ said Crabb brandishing a telegram in one hand.

‘And who is Sir Charles Chilton?’ asked Ravenscroft taking the telegram.

‘Lives in Droitwich I believe. Something big in salt,’ offered Crabb.

‘Salt!’ exclaimed Ravenscroft beginning to read the communication.
IMPERATIVE YOU COME AT ONCE. MOST SERIOUS MATTER. CHILTON. SIR CHARLES. HILL COURT. DODDERHILL. DROITWICH
. Is that all?’

‘Just after that telegram was delivered another one arrived.’

‘Oh, who from Tom?’

‘Superintendent. Gives instructions that you are to go to Droitwich as soon as possible,’ said Crabb taking out another telegram from the top pocket of his tunic and passing it over to his superior.

‘I don’t know why someone from Worcester can’t go,’ said Lucy. ‘It is rather late in the evening to venture out.’

‘Or even from Droitwich. We have got a police station at Droitwich, haven’t we?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘Don’t know sir, but I would have thought so,’ replied Crabb.

Ravenscroft opened the second telegram and read.
RAVENSCROFT. GO TO SEE SIR CHARLES CHILTON AT DROITWICH IMMEDIATELY. HAS ASKED FOR YOU PERSONALLY. MOST IMPORTANT THAT YOU COMPLY
. ‘Well Tom, I suppose there is nothing else
for it; we will have to go forth into the night air and take ourselves off to Droitwich.’

‘I believe there is a train leaving from Ledbury in fifteen minutes which will take us there sir,’ said Crabb.

‘Then we should make all haste up the Homend. I’m sorry my dear, I am afraid we will have to continue this discussion another time. Why on earth they have asked for me instead of using the local man is beyond me? Please don’t wait up for me. I don’t know when we will return.’

‘Go Samuel, go now, or you will miss your train. As you said, we can finish our conversation another time,’ said Lucy. ‘Now do take care.’

CHAPTER TWO

Droitwich

‘W
ell, Tom, what do we know about this Sir Charles Chilton?’ asked Ravenscroft as the two men sat in the carriage of a train which had left the town of Ledbury some twenty minutes before. They were now drawing out of the station in Worcester. ‘You said he had something to do with salt.’

‘Yes sir. Droitwich is famous for its salt. They have been digging it up for centuries by all accounts. Quite a hive of activity. And all I know is that Sir Charles seems to own most of it,’ replied Crabb.

‘And how did you come by this information?’ asked Ravenscroft staring out of the window at the receding oil lamps on the station platform.

‘Local newspaper, sir. Some weeks ago, there was an article on the salt manufacture at Droitwich, and I thought I remembered that Sir Charles’s name was mentioned more than once or twice.’

‘I see. I must say that I am more than intrigued as to why we have been summoned, and at such a late hour as well. I would have thought they would have requested assistance from the local station. The telegram said it was a most serious matter. Well we shall see.’

A few minutes later the train pulled into Droitwich station and the two men alighted from their carriage.

‘Take us to Hill Court at Dodderhill, my man,’ instructed Ravenscroft addressing the driver of the lone cab that was waiting outside the dimly lit station.

‘You must be Ravenscroft then,’ remarked the cabman indicating that the two men should enter.

‘It seems we are expected, Crabb,’ said Ravenscroft. ‘How long will it take us to get there?’

‘Five to ten minutes sir,’ replied the cabman.

Ravenscroft and Crabb sat back in their seats, as the man cracked his whip and the horse broke into a brisk trot.

‘How did he know who we were?’ asked Crabb.

‘I suppose Sir Charles assumed that we would arrive by train, rather than making our own way by road at this time of night,’ replied Ravenscroft.

‘Can’t quite see where we are going,’ said Crabb staring out of the window as they passed along the darkened streets of the town.

Presently the cab made its way up a steep hill before turning sharply to its left.

‘I think I can see the lights from the house,’ said Ravenscroft leaning out of the window as their conveyance made its way up a long diveway.

‘Looks as though it could be a residence of some importance,’ suggested Crabb.

The vehicle swung abruptly to the left before coming to a rest in front of a fine Georgian building. An elderly, grey-haired servant holding a lantern came forwards to meet them. ‘Good evening sir. Welcome to Hill Court. If you would care to enter, Sir Charles is waiting for you in the entrance hall,’ said the man opening the cab for the two policemen.

Ravenscroft made his way through the large open doorway observing, in passing, the ornate pillars and cornice which together framed the entrance.

‘Ah Ravenscroft, good of you to come,’ announced the squat middle-aged man, whom Ravenscroft found himself facing; this character sported a large, ginger handlebar moustache and mutton chop whiskers, and was smoking a massive cigar, dressed in evening attire.

‘I came as soon as I received your telegram, Sir Charles. This is Constable Crabb, my assistant,’ replied Ravenscroft.

‘This is my solicitor and associate Mr Brockway. Thought it best if he were here.’

Ravenscroft nodded in the direction of the tall, elderly, grey-haired man who stood nervously by Sir Charles’s side.

‘Oh Mr Ravenscroft, I am so glad you have come,’ called out a woman’s voice from within one of the nearby rooms.

‘This is my wife Ravenscroft, Lady Chilton,’ said Sir Charles, as the lady in question entered the hallway.

‘How-do-you-do, Lady Chilton,’ said Ravenscroft observing the look of anxiety in the new arrival’s face.

‘You must help us, Mr Ravenscroft. It is all so terrible! We do not know whom to turn to,’ said the woman grasping hold of Ravenscroft’s hand and staring vacantly into his eyes.

‘Now my dear. You best leave this to Brockway and I to deal with’, said Sir Charles taking hold of Ravenscroft’s shoulder and steering him in the direction of the study.

‘But … but I should so like … I think it important …’ began the woman, her voice full of concern as her words trailed away.

‘I will tell Inspector Ravenscroft all he needs to know. Best if you retire, Mary,’ said Chilton in a firm raised voice. ‘Ravenscroft, after you.’

Ravenscroft and Crabb entered the book-lined study. Chilton and Brockway followed after them, the former closing the door behind the party.

‘You must excuse my wife, Ravenscroft, this affair has distressed her somewhat. Not good for her nerves. Sure you will understand. Well take a seat, man,’ said Chilton indicating that Ravenscroft should take the large leather armchair that was positioned at the side of the marble fireplace.

‘Thank you sir,’ replied Ravenscroft accepting the seat. Chilton seated himself at the other side of the large oak desk which seemed to take centre stage in the room. Brockway took the other chair at the side of the desk. Crabb took up position by the closed door and took out his note book from the top pocket of his tunic.

‘You’re probably wondering what all this is about,’ said Chilton pausing to take a pull on his cigar as he stared at the middle-aged, balding, bespectacled detective seated before him.

‘You said it was a matter of great importance,’ said Ravenscroft feeling slightly uncomfortable in his new surroundings, as he glanced at the old master paintings that hung between the bookcases on the walls of the study.

‘And so it is, man; it is of the gravest concern. I’ll come straight to the point. My daughter has been taken.’

‘I see.’

‘Taken this afternoon from underneath our very eyes! If I find out who is behind this, I’ll have the man hung, drawn and quartered! You just can’t go around taking other people’s children.’

‘You say your daughter has been taken,’ said Ravenscroft leaning forwards in his chair. ‘How old is your daughter Sir Charles?’

‘My daughter, Mildred, is nine years old.’

‘And where was she taken from?’

‘In the churchyard at Dodderhill.’

‘Did anyone witness her abduction?’

‘Well no one actually saw her being taken, but taken she was. No doubt about it. What I want to know, is what you are going to do about it?’ said Chilton taking another puff on his cigar, as he leaned forwards and peered at the detective through the drifting smoke.

‘Perhaps if you could be a little more specific, sir,’ suggested Ravenscroft sensing the impatience in his host’s voice.

‘My daughter was walking in Dodderhill churchyard this afternoon with her governess, Miss Petterson. They were on their way into town – there is a path that leads from the side entrance of the house into the churchyard, then descends into the town. Anyway, Ravenscroft, apparently Petterson went into the church for a minute or so, on some business or other, and when she returned Mildred had gone. Nowhere to be found.’

‘I see. Perhaps your daughter ran off and hid somewhere? A game of hide and seek maybe?’ suggested Ravenscroft.

‘My daughter is not in the habit of running off and hiding!’ snapped Chilton.

‘Did the governess, Miss Petterson make a search of the churchyard?’

‘Of course she did, man.’

‘And what happened next?’

‘She ran back here, raised the alarm, and then the servants ran back to the churchyard and made a more thorough search of the grounds, all to no avail. My daughter was nowhere to be seen.’

‘Did Miss Petterson see anyone else in the churchyard at the time your daughter was taken?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘No. I believe not.’

‘You mentioned that there is a path that leads from the churchyard down into the town. Your daughter could have run off that way?’

‘I’ve told you, Ravenscroft, that my daughter is not the kind of girl to run off on her own. Damn it man, it is clear as a pikestaff that she has been taken,’ growled Chilton chewing on his cigar.

‘After your servants searched the churchyard, what happened next?’

‘What do you mean – what happened next?’

‘Well, did you report the matter to the local constabulary for instance?’ asked Ravenscroft looking up at Crabb for a moment to see that his constable was taking notes.

‘No. I was not in the house at the time of my daughter’s disappearance. I was visiting the works at Stoke Prior, on business you understand. One of the servants rode over there with the news. Of course I returned to the house as soon as possible. My wife and I then gave orders that the grounds, and then the house were to be searched from top to bottom. The servants found nothing. That was when I decided to send for you, Ravenscroft.’

‘Forgive me sir, but why did you send for me? There is a perfectly good station in the town I believe, they could have dealt with this matter.’

‘I sent a message first to your superior, whom I have met socially on a number of occasions. He recommended you. Said you were the best man to deal with this matter, and that you were not too busy at the moment. Now what I want to know, is what you are going to do about finding my daughter, Ravenscroft?’

‘You said, Sir Charles, that you believe your daughter has been taken?’ said Ravenscroft choosing to ignore the last remark.

‘Well of course she has been taken, man,’ replied Chilton irritably.

‘Can you think of anyone who would have taken your daughter sir?’

‘Plenty, man. Look here Ravenscroft, I’m an important local business man, as I am sure you know. Salt is my business. Most of the town is dependent on my endeavours. I inherited the business from my father. It wasn’t much then, but over the years through damned hard work I’ve made a success of it. We have a tidy pile put by, for a rainy day, if you understand my meaning – and you don’t get where I am today without treading on a few toes on the way,’ said Chilton leaning back in his chair and brushing away the surrounding smoke with a brisk swat of his hand.

‘But no particular name comes immediately to mind?’

‘No. I’ll have Brockway here draw up a list of those I’ve had dealings with recently, if you think that would be of assistance. You can do that, Brockway?’

‘Of course sir,’ replied the solicitor.

‘Why do you think your daughter was taken sir?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘Money! Someone has obviously taken her – and they want money, I have no doubt of it.’

‘But you have received no communication as yet?’

‘No. If I had, I would not be sitting here like this would I? Get my daughter back Ravenscroft. She is all my wife has in this world. I’ll pay you well,’ said Chilton stubbing out his cigar in an ashtray, before rising quickly from his seat.

‘We will do our best, sir,’ said Ravenscroft feeling compelled to stand likewise, and realizing that his host was anxious to draw their conversation to an end. ‘However, I cannot accept any payment. That is against police regulations.’

‘As you wish Ravenscroft, as you wish. Now, where do you want to start?’

‘Perhaps I could have a word with Miss Petterson, the governess,’ suggested Ravenscroft.

‘Whatever for?’ asked Chilton.

‘She was the last person to see your daughter before her disappearance.’

‘Yes I know, but I’ve told you what she said. Can’t see what else she can tell you.’

‘Nevertheless sir, I would like to hear the account of your daughter’s disappearance from Miss Petterson in person, if I may,’ requested Ravenscroft firmly.

‘Very well then,’ sighed Chilton opening the door and calling to one of the servants to fetch the governess.

‘And if I could have that list Mr Brockway, as soon as possible, I would be obliged,’ said Ravenscroft turning towards the solicitor.

‘Of course sir,’ replied Brockway forcing a brief smile.

‘You have known Sir Charles long?’ inquired Ravenscroft.

‘For the past thirty years, or more. I was previously employed by his father, Sir Christopher.’

‘Ah Ravenscroft, this is Miss Petterson,’ said Chilton reentering the room follow by a tall, thin-faced, plainly dressed woman.

‘Miss Petterson,’ said Ravenscroft shaking the newcomer’s hand.

‘Mr Ravenscroft. This is a terrible business,’ said the governess.

‘It is indeed, Miss Petterson. I wonder, Sir Charles, whether I might speak with Miss Petterson alone?’

‘Well yes. I suppose so, if you think it will help.’

‘I do not mind Sir Charles if you should wish to stay,’ offered Miss Petterson throwing her employer an quick anxious glance.

‘I would prefer it, if we talked alone,’ insisted Ravenscroft smiling.

‘Well we’ll leave you to it. Come on, Brockway. Let me know if you want anything, Ravenscroft,’ replied Chilton making his way towards the door.

‘Thank you, Sir Charles. Miss Petterson, if you would care to take a seat. Crabb, bring the chair over if you will,’ said Ravenscroft.

Chilton and Brockway left the room, closing the door behind them, as the governess accepted the seat.

‘Miss Petterson, perhaps we could begin by your telling us what happened this afternoon,’ began Ravenscroft resuming his seat in the leather armchair.