Kerry Tombs - The Worcester Whisperers

‘Have you come up with any information that might lead us to the culprit, sir?’ asked Ravenscroft, as tactfully as he could.

‘No, we have not!’ snapped Henderson. ‘That’s your job. The force has plenty of more important things to deal with at the moment than to spend our time trying to recover some old religious book! I’ve got the races to organize on Pitchcroft next week. You get on with it. Find out who took the book, Ravenscroft.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And keep me fully informed. I want to be kept up to date with progress in this case. Can’t afford to offend the cathedral.’

‘Yes, sir, of course.’

‘And you, Constable, see that the undertaker is called. Can’t have this fellow lying here all day! Damn sightseers will be arriving soon! Good day to you, Ravenscroft.’

‘Good day, sir.’

Ravenscroft and Crabb watched their superior officer stride off across the grass towards his waiting cab.

‘So that was Superintendent Henderson,’ remarked Ravenscroft, breathing a sigh of relief.

‘I tried to warn you, sir. Apparently he used be a major in the army before he was elevated to the local constabulary. They say he fought in the Crimea. The men are not all that keen on him, by all accounts.’

‘Oh, why is that?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘Rather too fond of the bottle,’ said Crabb, rubbing the side of his nose.

‘I take your meaning, Crabb. Well, I think that is all we can do here for today. Time I returned to Worcester to try the fare at the Cardinal’s Hat. We’ll meet again in the Cathedral Close at nine in the morning.’

Ravenscroft slept badly. The unfamiliar surroundings, a particularly unappetizing supper, and the sounds of a late night drunken reveller outside the hostelry all conspired to keep him awake until the early hours of the morning. He rose at seven and, after dressing and partaking of some early morning refreshment, he set off to explore the streets of the town.

He retraced his steps of the previous day, back along Friar Street and the Shambles, and through the main thoroughfare, until he reached the railway station. He then turned down one of the side roads to his left, and eventually found himself on the towpath on the banks of the Severn.

He looked along the river-bank, past the bridge and the warehouses, towards the mighty cathedral. To Ravenscroft, the building seemed to tower over all that was before it, declaring its importance and dominance over the affairs of the town. He began to wonder what events it had witnessed down through the centuries, and what secrets it retained within the confines of its walls.

As he made his way along the towpath, he passed a number of boats, the occupants of whom were busily engaged in unloading various cargoes, and transporting the sacks and boxes to a large warehouse on the side of the quay. He then walked beneath the shadow of the cathedral until he reached a set of steps, which he knew would almost certainly take him up to the precincts of the building. Ravenscroft paused and looked out across the river. This must have been where Evelyn had made his way that night before he had met with his unfortunate death — but which way had he then turned after he had walked down from the cathedral? If he had taken the route back towards the bridge, he might then have made his way up towards the town, but if this had been his intention, Ravenscroft concluded, it would surely have been quicker to have turned into the town from the cathedral in the first place. The more he considered the possibilities, the more it seemed probable that Evelyn would have gone in the other direction, taking the path that led away from the cathedral and the town. If that was the case, where was it that Evelyn was going at such a late hour?

Ravenscroft decided to follow the towpath. After a while the outer stone walls of the cathedral precincts ended and he passed an inn overlooking the river. Perhaps Evelyn had met someone there that night?

He continued on further, passing a number of derelict buildings and one or two fine houses on his way, until he reached the entrance of the Birmingham to Worcester Canal, where a boat was awaiting its turn to enter the lock gate. Could Evelyn have met with someone on one of the boats perhaps? The possibilities appeared to be endless. Whoever it was who Evelyn had met that night, had killed the poor man and thrown his body into the Severn. As Ravenscroft looked down at the murky waters, he resolved that he would send Crabb to call at the inn, and also to make enquiries at the lock gate, to see whether anyone could remember seeing Evelyn that night.

He decided it was time to return to the cathedral and, after retracing his steps along the bank of the river, he made his way back up to the Close.

Finding a seat on the green, he sat down and looked at the range of buildings that ran round the cathedral precincts. There was the house where the Tovey sisters lived, and Touchmore’s imposing residence as befitted his status as the Dean of Worcester Cathedral.

Deep in thought, he suddenly felt something running into his leg, and looking down found a metal hoop at his feet. He picked up the object. A small boy, not more than six or seven years of age was running towards him, closely followed by a woman who was endeavouring to keep up with him.

‘Please, sir, can I have my hoop back?’ asked the boy looking across at him with appealing eyes.

‘Of course you can,’ smiled Ravenscroft. The boy reminded him of another, younger boy he had seen the previous year. That child had been playing with his toys, and had a mother to care for him.

‘I’m so sorry, sir. Will you please forgive my son?’ The speaker was evidently the child’s mother. Ravenscroft observed that she was simply dressed, plain in appearance and in her mid-twenties. ‘Of course, it is no problem, I can assure you. It is good to see the little fellow enjoying himself,’ he replied.

‘I bring him here, as there is more space for him to play. Where we live, near the Cornmarket, there is nowhere he can go and play, and it’s too dangerous by the river. We usually manage to come here every day for a few minutes, before I start work.’

‘Please take a seat,’ offered Ravenscroft, sensing that he might be able to gain some local information from the woman, ‘I’m sure your boy will manage to entertain himself, while you recover your composure.’

‘That is most kind of you, sir. I don’t think I have seen you here before?’

‘No. I live in London.’

‘London! My word, I’ve always wondered what London must be like. I imagine all the people there are very busy, and very rich,’ said the young woman taking her place on the seat.

‘Well, everyone is certainly busy, but not many people there are rich,’ smiled Ravenscroft.

‘The Queen, she lives there. She must be very rich?’

‘She is indeed.’

‘Have you seen the Queen, sir?’

‘I saw her once, and only briefly. She came by in her carriage.’

‘My! I should like to have seen her,’ said the woman sadly. ‘She must be very grand. And what brings you to Worcester? Oh, I’m sorry. People say I am always asking questions about things that don’t concern me.’

‘I don’t mind answering your question. I’m a detective. I have come down here to investigate the disappearance of the librarian at the cathedral.’

‘Oh!’ exclaimed the woman.

‘You knew Mr Evelyn?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘Why yes, sir. He lives in the same lodging-house as me and my boy. We have rooms on the ground floor, and he has rooms on the top floor. He is always good and kind to us, sir. Whenever he sees my boy he often pats him on the head and gives him a farthing.’

‘That is very good of him.’

‘And now everyone says he’s missing.’