Kerry Tombs - The Worcester Whisperers

‘You have not seen him since the night he disappeared?’

‘No. Be careful, Arthur. Don’t go to near the houses!’ she cried out to

the boy.

‘Did Mr Evelyn mention that he was going away?’

‘No. He said nothing to me about going away.’

‘Did he ever say anything about a book called the Whisperie? ’ asked Ravenscroft leaning forward.

‘ Whisperie. My, that’s a funny name. No, I don’t think Mr Evelyn ever mentioned anything about a Whisperie .’

‘Was he in the habit of receiving visitors to his rooms?’

‘Oh no, sir; he always kept very much to himself. We used to laugh and say you could set your watch by the time Mr Evelyn went out to work. He always left at half past eight in the morning, and came home at exactly half past six in the evening. Six days a week; it was always the same.’

‘Did he ever go away, to stay with friends perhaps, to travel, or go on holiday?’

‘No. I don’t think so. He always seemed to be there. He didn’t seem to go out much in the evenings either.’

‘He seems to have lived a very lonely life.’

‘Yes, I suppose he did, but you speak as though something has happened to him.’

‘You mentioned that you come here every day,’ said Ravenscroft, changing the subject and leaning back in his seat.

‘Yes, before I start work.’

‘And you always sit on this seat?’

‘Yes,’ replied the woman, a puzzled expression on her face.

‘When you have been sitting here, have you ever seen Mr Evelyn perhaps talking with someone?’

‘No, I don’t think so. He was always at work by then, I suppose.’

‘And where do you work?’ enquired Ravenscroft, curious to know more about the woman he had engaged in conversation.

‘At that house over there, across the Green,’ she replied, pointing at one of the large imposing buildings. ‘I’m a parlour maid. I work for Sir Arthur Griffiths. He is the Member of Parliament for the town. He is a very important man,’ she added proudly.

‘I’m sure he is — and you must consider yourself fortunate that you work in such a fine house.’

‘I do indeed. Sir Arthur is often away in London, but when he is here, he always seems to be busy, entertaining and such like. We are kept very occupied.’

‘You have worked there long?’

‘For about eight years, sir.’

‘You must like it.’

‘Yes, there is always plenty to do. Sir Arthur lives there with his only daughter, Miss Griffiths, she has charge of the house.’

‘It is a pleasant residence, overlooking the cathedral. I would certainly like to live in such a house,’ said Ravenscroft smiling.

‘One day my son will live in such a house,’ she replied looking away. Ravenscroft thought he could detect a note of sadness in her voice. ‘Well, sir, you will have to excuse me. It is time I took my son to school, before I commence my duties for the day.’

‘Of course,’ said Ravenscroft rising to his feet. ‘Thank you for talking to me — and you are?’

‘Ruth Weston, sir.’

‘Well, Mrs Weston, perhaps we may-’

‘Miss, sir. Miss Weston.’

‘I’m sorry. Miss Weston. I have enjoyed our conversation. Perhaps we might talk together again?’

‘Yes, I am generally here at this time each morning. I hope you find Mr Evelyn.’

‘Good day to you, Miss Weston,’ replied Ravenscroft.

‘Arthur, come here. It is time for school.’

Ravenscroft resumed his seat and watched the woman taking her child’s hand. He followed them with his eyes as they left the cathedral grounds. He resolved to call upon the Member of Parliament in the near future. Perhaps someone in the household might have additional information regarding Evelyn and the night in question. The more he learned about the reclusive librarian, the more the man intrigued him. Evelyn had appeared to have lived such a dull existence, almost to the point of boredom. What had then suddenly driven a man of such regular, sober habits, to commit a deed which seemed so alien to his whole personality? What force could have caused such a dramatic change?

‘You look deep in thought, sir.’

‘Ah, Crabb, I did not see you there,’ said Ravenscroft, looking up at his constable.

‘I trust you slept well at the Cardinal’s Hat?’

‘Not particularly well, thank you. But what news of the keys we recovered from the body?’

‘They appear to fit both the doors to the library, and the cases. No doubt about it: they were Evelyn’s keys all right,’ answered Crabb, taking his seat beside Ravenscroft.

‘It was just as we supposed. I have just been talking with the parlour maid who works in that house over there, a Ruth Weston, who apparently resides in the same lodging house as our friend Evelyn. She describes him as being a very lonely man of regular habits, who entertained no one, and who kept very much to himself.’

‘Seems to confirm very much what the dean and the choirmaster said.’

‘We need to find out where the librarian went to that night, after he left the cathedral. I took a walk along the towpath this morning, and I am convinced that when he went down the steps, he turned left and made his way in the direction of the canal. There is an inn on the way, where he might have met someone. I want you to spend the morning interviewing people at the inn to see if they saw anything that night.’

‘Right, sir.’

‘Then I want you to go further along the towpath, to where the river and the canal join. If there are any barges there, interview the occupants — see if they saw anything on the night he disappeared. Then meet me back here at one o’clock.’

‘Yes, sir. And where will you be?’

‘I think it is about time I called on Dr Silas Renfrew, to find out more about this missing book. Perhaps he might be able to tell us more about Nicholas Evelyn, and why he suddenly chose to steal the Whisperie. ’

LONDON

‘You appear to have done well, Monk,’ said the woman in black, leaning forward in the darkness, straining to catch a glance of the man from beyond the candle.

‘It was not difficult. I just had to wait my time. I knew she would be easy,’ replied the voice in a dry, matter-of-fact tone.

‘You made sure that no one saw you?’ she asked anxiously.

‘I would not be sitting here now, had I not been so careful,’ he retorted.

‘I am sorry. I should not have questioned your ability in this matter,’ she said quickly, anxious not to cause offence. ‘Tell me how it was done?’

‘Bucks Row; it was dark. She was easy. I held her head back against the wall, then I drew the blade across her throat,’ he said without emotion.

‘The papers said you slashed her stomach?’

‘You object to my methods?’

‘No, of course not; that wretched woman deserved to die,’ she replied bitterly. ‘Tell me, did she cry out, or express any words of remorse before she died?’

‘Women like that know nothing of remorse. I squeezed her throat; looked into her eyes and saw the fear there; she had no chance to speak.’

‘I see. I would have liked some atonement,’ she said, sadly.

‘The woman must have hurt you a great deal,’ he stated.

‘I told you there were to be no questions regarding my motives in this concern,’ she said quickly, becoming annoyed by his enquiries. ‘It is enough for you to know that the woman gravely wronged my family sometime in the past. Now she has paid the ultimate price. You have kept your side of the bargain. That is all I could have asked for. Now, I will fulfil my obligation. Here are the twenty sovereigns we agreed upon.’

She placed the small bag of coins down on the table, expecting a hand to emerge from the darkness of the room to take up the reward.