Читать книгу The Fifth Identity - Ray CW Scott - Страница 5

Ruddock parked his car in the Billacc car park, entered the offices and was directed to Richard’s office. Richard was dictating a letter into his computer terminal and waved Ruddock to a chair. He finally laid down the dictaphone and leaned forward.

“You want a coffee before we go?”

Ruddock shook his head.

“Not for me,” he said. “I had one before I left the office.”

Richard picked up his brief case and led the way out into the car park where his car was parked. They got into the car and Richard pulled out into the traffic.

The trip to Pennington took a few hours, conversation was easy as they knew each other quite well. They were both much the same age and both were married with children approaching early teenage. They were also both keen football followers, Richard was a Chelsea man while Ruddock followed the Arsenal so football talk took up most of the journey. They had about half an hour to go before they touched upon the subject of their quest.

“Why did John never make a will?” asked Richard.

“I was hoping you could tell me that,” said Ruddock. “I find it quite incredible that a man of such wealth could make no provision whatsoever for the disposal of his estate. Let’s face it, none of us are immortal.”

“It’s strange that he never mentioned anything about his family at all,” said Richard. “He was married of course, but he married late and that was Evelyn Pritchard, from our own organisation. That is where they met, and they never had any children.”

“Did he have any family at all?”

“I never heard of any, he was a very private man, never said anything about any family, we never knew where he was born or anything about him. He and my father hit it off when they met, they found they had a common aim, and they joined up in a partnership.”

“That was in Leicester, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. My father was running a small business from a garage at the time, dealing mainly with repairs of small office machinery and the like. I believe John Accrington turned up originally as a repair man, but he clearly had a penchant for sales and administration.”

“Office machinery?”

“That’s how my father started, as computers entered the market many of the old office machines began to disappear, and IBM for one pulled out of typewriters altogether,” said Richard. “Dad took on John and they later became partners, I believe John had some money which he invested in the business at the time, and as time progressed they moved completely into computers and later into software.”

“Where did John come from?”

“I don’t know, maybe my father knew, but it was a subject that never came up between me and John. Maybe I should have asked, but I found him to be a somewhat forbidding character, difficult to approach at times. I talked business with him of course, but in the every day round of business discussions I never got around to anything else. Maybe I should have, I might have got to know him better.”

They reached the village of Pennington and travelled slowly up the main street. Ruddock was struck by the old gabled appearance of so many of the village buildings and felt as if he had gone back in time about 400 years.

“Nice place to live,” remarked Ruddock.

“Very rustic, and very historic, that building over there was apparently built in the 1400’s,” said Richard Bilston, indicating a black and white building. “That one over there. . ” he pointed over to the left “…was used as a Roundhead headquarters during the Civil War. The pub has been standing for over 400 years, and parts of the church are said to have been in existence before William the Conqueror arrived.”

“He certainly selected a beautiful place to live.”

“And a secluded one,” grunted Richard. “It’s almost a throw back several hundred years, though there are a few new houses appearing here and there, while the railway station is about half a mile away. It’s handy for commuting, but much of the land is private estates and farm land, landed gentry and all that, which prevents too much development.”

“Maybe that’s why Accrington preferred to extend his house sooner than look for a larger one.”

“Very likely.”

Eventually they espied the lane that led to Accrington’s house. The residence was tucked away behind trees, they entered the drive after opening the main gate and proceeded cautiously. The drive was surfaced with gravel, and was lined with small trees. The building came into view and Richard drew up in front of it.

The house was quite impressive, the facade had a couple of gables and the front door was situated in the middle of the frontage with a covered porch.

“The frontage was - or is - the original house,” explained Richard after they had alighted and were both leaning on the car roof. He proceeded to give a description of the house and its recent history as far as he knew it. Apparently it was originally erected in the late 1700’s. When Accrington extended it he added onto the rear, which was a local authority requirement who stipulated that the frontage was to remain as it was - a question of maintaining the local architecture. The council were also very particular about the design and materials used for whatever was erected on the rear. The garage was also around the side, almost out of view, it was the original stable that had been modernised inside, though the outer shell retained its original appearance, again a council requirement.

Ruddock cast his eye over the majestic pile and liked it. He could understand why the late John Accrington would have been loath to move away from the premises. He looked around behind him at the tree covered drive that led to the road and it was idyllic. Through the trees to the right of the driveway he could see the back of a small building, and as he craned his neck he could see that it was facing outwards onto a large green area.

“That’s the local cricket ground,” said Richard as he observed the direction of Ruddock’s curiosity. “That building is the pavilion. The whole of that field used to be part of John’s property. When the local cricket club lost its ground to developers about 15 years ago, John made this field over to them. He sold it to them for a nominal sum, something like £100 which he then donated back to the club. He loved his cricket, he watched them play almost every week from his upstairs balcony.”

Ruddock handed Richard Bilston a key. Richard unlocked the front door and stood aside for Ruddock to enter.

“Where do you want to start, Norman?”

“Guess his study will be the best bet, what do you reckon?”

“I agree. OK, let’s have a look.”

They entered the hall and Ruddock pulled up sharply.

“What are these doing here?”

Richard leaned over and scratched his head.

“Search me!” he said. They both walked up the hall and looked at some chairs that were standing at the back end of the hallway. “From my memory of my last visit these should be in the kitchen, they stood around the kitchen table. What on earth are they doing here?”

“Very odd,” remarked Ruddock. “Where’s his study, is it through here?”

“Yes,” Richard pushed the door open. “This is a beautiful room for a man to work in, also with a view of his beloved cricket ground. He told me once that he’d work in here and when he saw the cricketers coming out onto the field he’d go upstairs to his balcony.”

“Desk looks a bit bare,” commented Ruddock. “I’ve seen his desk at your offices, he had many small mementoes scattered around that one.”

“That desk at the office is a beauty,” commented Richard. “It’s a very old one too, about 1830s vintage. I understand he bought it at an antique sale many years ago.”

“How come an article like that turned up in a sale?”

“It came from a country house when the new owners had to sell a lot of the heirlooms to pay death duties.”

Richard walked up to the desk and looked puzzled.

“He used to keep many small mementoes on this one as well,” said Richard, looking around him. “Now this I don’t understand, he used to have a small statuette standing on this side of the desk, he bought it from an antique shop near to the office, cost him a few quid, several hundreds I believe. Where the hell is it?”

They carried out a cursory search of the room but found nothing. One of the filing cabinets had one of its drawers open and some papers and files were stacked on the couch.

“Why are these out here?’ asked Ruddock.

“Somebody’s been in here,” commented Richard, picking up some of them and studying them. “These are company files. I’d better take these back with me, will you need to have them all tagged first?”

“We’d prefer it,” said Ruddock. “But I’m bothered about this.”

“It looks to me as if someone has been in here.” suggested Richard.

“If they have they must have broken in, we’ve got all the keys.”

They went out into the hallway, on impulse they decided to examine the other downstairs rooms first before heading for Accrington’s bedroom, and in the lounge room at the rear they had a second shock.

“We’ve had unauthorised visitors.” said Richard. “There was a television in that corner. See these indentations in the carpet? You can see where it was standing.”

“And these French doors aren’t properly secured,” said Ruddock, he reached out and ran his finger down the door jamb. “That sliding door in the French windows isn’t latched … look!” he placed his finger against the door and it slowly slid back.

“Shit!!” ejaculated Ruddock. “We’d best touch nothing. This is a job for the police.”

They returned to Accrington’s study, Ruddock took out his mobile telephone and looked around.

“Hand me that directory, Richard,” he said. “I’ll phone the local police.”

“No need, the number of the local cop shop is on his Teledex on the desk,” said Richard. He flicked it open at the letter “P” and pushed it across to Ruddock.

After making the call they retired from the premises and sat in the porch while they awaited the arrival of the police. They expected a fairly long wait but were pleasantly surprised to see, within about fifteen minutes, a squad car pass by the entry to the driveway, travel a short distance up the lane and then do a “U” turn and return and enter through the gate. It came slowly up the drive and parked next to Richard Bilston’s vehicle.

Two uniformed constables got out and advanced towards them.

“Sir?’ one of them asked, so Richard stepped forward and introduced himself.

“My name is Richard Bilston, this is Norman Ruddock from Fell, Pelham & Drysdale, a firm of London solicitors. We have authorisation to enter these premises from the Administrators of the Estate of John Accrington, who used to be the owner of these premises.”

“What’s the trouble, sir?” said the constable. “I understand you said there’s been a break-in?”

“Yes, at the rear of the premises there’s a French window that seems to have been left unlocked, we had no trouble in opening it. As soon as we realised something was amiss we left the premises and gave you a call.”

“Very good, sir,” said the constable. “Is this door open?”

He indicated the front door.

“Yes. We entered through it, we have a key.”

“OK. We’ll have a look. Can you both stay here for the present please.”

The two policemen entered the house, and they could hear them moving around within. Then they heard one of them climbing the stairs and then moving around on the upper floor. Then they heard the sound of descending footsteps and the constable appeared in the doorway and beckoned to them to come in.

“All clear, sir,” he said. “You can come in, but don’t touch anything.”

“I’m afraid we already have,” said Bilston. “We’d already looked at the safe and that desk in the study before we realised that anything was wrong. It was the chairs standing at the rear end of the hallway that alerted us to the fact that something was amiss. I’m afraid our finger prints could be on them.”

“Why exactly were you here, sir?”

Richard Bilston explained why they were there and their connection with John Accrington. He reached into his wallet and produced his card, Norman Ruddock did the same.

“I represent Mr Accrington’s lawyers,” Ruddock said as the constable examined the cards. “We are also the solicitors for the company of which he was a director. Mr Bilston is also a director of that company.”

“Alright sir. We’ve alerted the local CID, they should be here within the hour.”

“Good! In the meantime, can we have a look around?”

“Sorry sir, no sir,” the constable shook his head. “You’ll have to wait until CID and the finger print people have been down here, shouldn’t take long.”

Ruddock and Bilston looked at each other and Bilston shrugged.

“Looks as if we’re stymied for the present, Norman,” he said. “We may as well have a look at the local hostelry.”

The constable grinned.

“Sounds like a good idea, sir,” he said. “Wish we could join you. I suggest you try the Cromwell Arms, their draught beer is worth a try. Come back here in about an hour or so, or maybe two. CID should be here by then.”

They took the constable’s advice and tried the beer at the Cromwell Arms. The hostelry was a most impressive building, of Tudor appearance and from a date that they could just make out over the frontage of the building its vintage was 1564. As for the draught beer, they fully agreed with the constable’s assessment. As they stood at the bar they talked to the landlord.

“Mr Accrington?” the grizzled landlord pondered and scratched his chin. “Yes, he came in here occasionally, usually by himself, though he came in a few times with Walter Rushden. Sad business him dying like that. Are you investigating his death?”

“Who’s Walter Rushden?” asked Ruddock, ignoring the question. “Is he a local?”

“He’s almost part of the scenery,” the landlord responded with a chuckle. “He’s in here most week ends, he works on one of the farms around here. He played for the local cricket club for years, used to be a big hitter. He broke two of our windows at the back when they played on their old ground before it was sold over their heads.”

“How was he friendly with John Accrington?”

“Cricket in the main as I recall it, Walt was a member of the cricket club committee when they were looking for a new ground some sixteen years or so back. Mr Accrington offered them his western meadow and Walt was involved in the negotiations. Generous offer that, it saved the cricket club. Mr Accrington also purchased the materials for their new pavilion.”

He jerked his thumb at a chart on the wall to the right, it had a logo on the top and a list of fixtures below it.

“I’m a vice-president, I post their fixture card up there every year,” he said. “Pays me too, after the matches they come in here with the opposition and knock off a few pints.”

“Where does Walter Rushden work now?”

“Hancocks’s farm, that’s just up the road from here. He looked after Mr Accrington’s garden as well, Mr Accrington gave him an allotment on the northern end of the property where he grows his vegetables. Guess he’ll probably lose that now.”

“Do you know a Mrs Salmon?”

“Edna Salmon?” the landlord pursed his lips and screwed up his eyes. “What about Edna Salmon?”

“Wasn’t she John Accrington’s housekeeper?”

“So I’ve heard,” said the landlord. “…Yes…half a mo, Jim, with you in a minute…!” he waved his hand at another man at the far end of the bar. “She’s lived here many years.”

“What sort of a woman is she?’ asked Ruddock.

The landlord wiped an offending beer puddle from the bar, and looked up.

“She’s lived here for many a year,” he repeated and inclined his head downwards but kept his eyes focussed on them. “You’ll have to excuse me, gents. Duty calls.”

They returned to the house about two hours later, there were two cars in the driveway outside the front door. A man was talking to two women on the doorstep as they approached and he looked up quizzically. He was a thick set man, with close cropped hair and was wearing sunglasses, which he removed as the two men approached. He finished his conversation with the two women, who were dressed in white overalls, and came over to them.

“Good afternoon! Can we assist you?”

Richard Bilston patiently explained who they were, the man consulted his clip board.

“Ah yes, you’re the two gentlemen who reported a suspected break-in…right?” he extended his hand and shook hands with them both. “Detective Sergeant Eddington, I’m from the Moorfield CID. We’ve had a look around, someone has definitely been in here by the look of it. Which rooms did you enter?”

“We were in the hallway, we had a look in the study - that’s the room over there, and then we went into the back room. We noticed a television set was missing.”

“How do you know that, sir?”

“I’ve been in the house a few times, I am a fellow director of John Accrington’s,” Richard Bilston explained. ” I paid a few visits to the house after my father died, we had to discuss company policy sometimes over the weekends.”

“Your father was…?”

“Kenneth Bilston, the original founder of the company in conjunction with Mr Accrington,” explained Richard.

“And you have a key?”

“Yes he does,” Ruddock broke in at this point. “I represent Mr Accrington’s lawyers, we collected all the keys to the property and retained them in our offices. The key that Mr Bilston used is one I gave him to open the front door when we arrived. We were here to search for company papers and any personal papers of the late Mr Accrington.”

“There are some papers lying on a sofa in the study, did you remove those?”

“No, they were already there.” said Richard. “They look like company papers to me, but I haven’t had a chance to study them in full yet.”

“Perhaps you can accompany me into the study Mr Bilston, and you Mr Ruddock, and see if you can assess whether anything else is missing.” said Eddington. “But don’t touch anything.”

He led the way into the hall and then into the study and invited them to have a look around. Richard did so, and gave a minor double take as he looked at the computer.

“That should be on the desk, not over there on that small table by the door,” he said. “Somebody has moved it.”

The Detective Sergeant moved over to look at it more closely, reached out and his hand came up holding the cable and the electric plug.

“Disconnected,” he remarked. “You’re right. It seems to me that somebody is collecting stuff together ready to move it. Have you any ideas who?”

They looked at each other, then Ruddock nodded.

“One other person used to have a key, the lady who did the cleaning here. She’s a local, she lives in the village.”

“Hmmm!” said Eddington. “We seem to have no signs of forcible entry. That rear door, the French window, was opened from the inside.”

“I don’t follow that, we sent a messenger down here to collect any keys from those who held them, we’ve got them all at our offices, bar this one that we used today.” said Ruddock.

“It looks as if there’s another one floating around, that door was definitely opened with a key,” said Eddington. “There’s no sign of any jemmy marks anywhere.”

“The only key held down here, apart from those held by John Accrington and we’ve got all the ones he had; is the one used by Mrs Salmon.”

“ Ah! I think we may have to interview the lady in question. Mrs Salmon you say?”

“Yes, she lives in the village somewhere, I’m not sure where.”

“In a place this size anybody shouldn’t be too difficult to track down,” said Eddington. “But I have come across Mrs Salmon, I know her husband, not well, but I know him.”

“We asked about her at the pub,” said Ruddock. “The landlord wasn’t too forthcoming about her.”

“That would be Fred Barratt, his reticence doesn’t surprise me; she isn’t Fred’s favourite person! I may have a word with him first.” said Eddington. “Leave her to us, gentlemen, I suggest you come back another day, say later in the week. It will give us time to sort things out. I don’t think we’ll be here for too long, hardly the crime of the century, but John Accrington was a well known figure around here.”

Ruddock nodded gloomily, he wasn’t looking forward to having to allocate another day to visit the village, but it seemed he had no choice.

“Very well,” he said slowly. “If you consider that’s necessary.”

“I do,” Eddington replied heavily. “We’ll need to have a good look around, especially in view of the strange circumstances of Mr Accrington’s death.”

“Are you investigating that?”

“Not me!” Eddington shook his head. “Two of my colleagues from the Yard are looking into that, they were down here last week poking around. They’ll probably want to know about this.”

He seemed to realise that perhaps he was saying too much, and snapped his folder shut. They made their way out of the front door, they shook hands and after a brief conversation climbed aboard their vehicle.

“We’ll give you a call,” said Ruddock.

Eddington gave them a wave as they drove away.