Kerry Tombs - The Worcester Whisperers

‘There is no doubt, I suppose, that it is Nicholas Evelyn?’ asked Ravenscroft, staring down at the body on the river-bank.

‘Everything seems to fit his description, sir,’ answered the constable.

‘Blessed if I see how you can tell, after the fellow has been in the water for the past few days,’ remarked Crabb.

‘When was the body discovered?’ continued Ravenscroft.

‘Early this afternoon. A fisherman found the body at the side of the river. Apparently he had been swept into the bank by that tree over there.’

‘Tell me, Constable, this is the River Severn, which I believe flows through Worcester and down here to Upton, before eventually making its way to Bristol?’

‘That is correct, sir. Next place after here is Tewkesbury, then Gloucester.’

‘So it seems most likely that either Evelyn fell into the river at Worcester whilst it was dark, or that someone killed him. Either way, the body then made its way down here to Upton.’

‘Seems most likely, sir, as you say,’ replied the constable.

‘Where is Superintendent Henderson?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘Over there, sir, in the inn. Shall I tell him you have arrived?’

‘Not for a while. Tell me has anyone looked in the pockets of the deceased man, or examined the body?’

‘I don’t think so. Tell you the truth, I don’t think anyone quite liked the idea of taking a close look at him!’ said the constable shaking his head.

‘Well, Constable, I think we need to,’ said Ravenscroft taking out his handkerchief as he bent down towards the corpse. ‘The body seems to have quite a number of cuts and marks on the head and face. Someone could have hit him on the back of his head I suppose, or the wounds could have been caused by the body hitting various obstacles on his way down the river. There is no way of telling. We need to turn him over so that I can remove his coat. Can you help me, Constable?’

Ravenscroft held the handkerchief up to his nose with one hand, whilst using the other to assist the constable in removing the garment, Crabb being content to remain at some distance. ‘Thank you, Constable, now let us see what is in his pockets. A few coins, a handkerchief — ah, this is what we are looking for Crabb — a set of keys on this ring.’

‘Could be the keys to the library, sir,’ suggested Crabb.

‘Almost certain I would say. You take charge of them, and when we return to Worcester we will see if they fit. There seems to be nothing else of interest on his person. No sign of the book.’

‘Could have fallen out of his pocket?’

‘If that is the case, the Whisperie is now lying on the bed of the River Severn!’

‘Then we shall never recover it, sir.’

‘I don’t think we should reconcile ourselves to that assumption just yet. We know that Evelyn in all probability took the book, and that when he left the cathedral he walked down the steps to the river. Why go down there at that time of night? I fancy that he must have been going to meet someone — in which case he could have given the book to the person whom he had arranged to meet,’ replied Ravenscroft, deep in thought.

‘Then that person killed him and threw him into the river,’ added Crabb, after a moment or two.

‘Perhaps — or he lost his footing on the way back and fell in the water.’

‘Poor fellow,’ said Crabb mournfully. ‘To have worked in the cathedral for forty years and to have met his end like this seems a great shame.’

‘What we need to find out, Crabb, is who it was that Evelyn was meeting that night. Then we might be able to find out why Evelyn took the book, and who now has it.’

‘I think we should go and pay our respects to Superintendent Henderson, sir,’ suggested Crabb.

‘Of course, over there you say?’

The two men made their way over to the old timber-beamed inn situated a few yards further along the towpath. As they neared the building they were met by the sound of laughter and loud voices.

‘I should go steady, sir,’ said Crabb looking, down at the ground sheepishly.

Ravenscroft gave Crabb a perplexed look, before pushing open the door to the inn. Five or six men were standing round the bar.

‘-and I said to the snotty-nosed corporal, clean your bloody rifle or the damned Russians will roast you alive!’

The speaker was a late-middle-aged man of military bearing, dressed in a long overcoat, who was leaning on the bar with one elbow, whilst holding a glass of whisky in his other hand. His companions burst out laughing at his last remark.

‘-and so this silly idiot of a man turns to me, puffs himself up like an overblown melon and says who the bloody hell is giving me orders?’

More laughter ensued from the group.

‘And who the devil might you be, sir?’ said the speaker, suddenly noticing Ravenscroft’s arrival. ‘We have no comment to make to the papers at this stage,’ he said, turning away to the bar.

‘I’m not from the local newspaper; I’m Inspector Ravenscroft from the Yard. I’m looking for Superintendent Henderson of the Worcester Constabulary.’

‘Are you indeed? Well, you have found him: I’m Henderson,’ said the speaker, giving his companions an amused glance.

‘I am pleased to make your acquaintance, sir,’ said Ravenscroft, stepping forward.

‘So you’re Ravenscroft. All the way from London, you say. Can’t see why they should have sent for you. We are more than capable of dealing with the case.’

‘I was asked to come down here by the cathedral authorities.’

‘Were you, by Wellington! Dammed insult I call it. It’s a bad reflection on the local force when they have to call in outsiders. Dammed rude of you to have started your investigations before paying your respects,’ snapped Henderson, his moustache bristling.

‘I’m sorry, sir,’ said Ravenscroft, looking down at the floor of the bar.

‘Er, still, I suppose it is not your fault. I expect you were only obeying orders, as they say. Got to do what the Yard tells you. Well seeing as you are here, you might as well join me in a tincture, Ravenscroft.’

‘Not while I am on duty, sir, thank you.’

‘That’s high and mighty of you, Ravenscroft!’

‘We’ll see you later, Reggie,’ said one the drinkers, making his excuses and preparing to leave.

‘No need to go, gentlemen. That fellow we pulled out of the river ain’t going anywhere.’

‘Nevertheless, Reggie, time we were going,’ said another of the group.

‘See you later, gentlemen. The inspector and I will resume our conversation outside,’ replied Henderson, clearly irritated by his junior’s arrival.

Ravenscroft stepped out of the inn where he was confronted by an anxious Crabb. ‘I see you have met with the superintendent then,’ whispered the constable, before standing to attention, as the door of the inn opened once more and Henderson stepped forth.

‘You’ve had a look at the body then, Ravenscroft?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Well, what do you make of it?’ asked the superintendent, in an annoyed tone of voice, and walking back briskly towards the body on the side of the river-bank.

‘He has obviously been in the water for a few days. Whether he was murdered, or just lost his footing-’ began Ravenscroft, attempting to keep up with his superior.

‘If you ask me, Ravenscroft, I’d say the fellow probably had too much to drink, lost his footing and fell in the river.’

‘We found a set of keys on him, which would suggest that he is Evelyn, the librarian.’

‘I see,’ said Henderson approaching the body. ‘I see. Did you find the book on him?’

‘Afraid not, sir.’

‘Not surprising. It looks to me as though someone just broke into the library and stole the book. Smashed the case; no consideration!’