Kerry Tombs - The Worcester Whisperers

‘Much better, boys. That was much better. I think that will be all for this morning. Mr Taylor if you please,’ said Edwards, in what Ravenscroft discerned as a Welsh accent.

The boys began to move away from the choir stalls, talking as they did so.

‘Silence!’ bellowed Edwards in a voice that seemed to echo round the cathedral. ‘Remember where you are!’

The choirboys silently began to make their way down the nave, Matthew Taylor the choirmaster, following on behind them, a collection of music sheets under his arm.

‘The boys sing well,’ said Ravenscroft, addressing the master.

‘When they are in a mind to exercise restraint,’ said Edwards.

‘I believe you are the Master of King’s School?’

‘I am indeed. Doctor Geraint Edwards at your service. Can I be of any assistance to you? You have a son you would like to enrol? Perhaps you would care to view the school? I am sure my-’

‘Alas, Dr Edwards I have no sons to place in any school. No, I am investigating the death of the librarian here, and the disappearance of a valuable book from the library.’

‘Ah, then you must be the famous London detective we have heard so much about?’

‘I am certainly from London, but I cannot claim to be in any way famous,’ said Ravenscroft, smiling and shaking the master’s hand. ‘This is my associate Constable Crabb. I wonder if you could spare us a few minutes of your valuable time?’

‘Of course, Inspector, anything I can do to be of assistance.’

‘How well did you know Nicholas Evelyn?’

‘I hardly knew the man at all. I knew he was the librarian of course, but other than that we had very little contact with one another, except when one or two of the more senior boys undertook research in the library. He always seemed the kind of person who kept very much to themselves,’ replied Edwards removing his spectacles and cleaning them with his handkerchief.

‘So we have discovered,’ added Ravenscroft.

‘I have been the master here at King’s for the past twelve years, and during all that time must have only spoken to him on perhaps three or four occasions.’

‘I understand, sir that you are in the habit of taking a late night walk every evening?’

‘Yes that is correct, Inspector. I usually find that a late night turn of the cathedral precincts clears my mind of the business of the day before retiring.’

‘Were you undertaking your usual walk on the night the librarian disappeared?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘I was indeed.’

‘What time was that, sir?’ inquired Crabb making notes in his pocket book.

‘Sometime between half past eleven and twelve o’clock,’ replied Edwards replacing his glasses.

‘That was rather late to be out, sir,’ said Ravenscroft.

‘I had been working on some papers late into the evening. I usually like to go out about half past ten or so.’

‘Did you go down by the river?’

‘Yes, I believe I did, but what is all this to do with the disappearance of the librarian?’ asked a puzzled Edwards.

‘During your walk, Dr Edwards did you encounter anyone?’

‘I don’t believe so.’

‘It is very important, sir. Whilst you were down at the river-side did you hear or see anything unusual at all? Was there anyone else down there?’ persisted Ravenscroft.

‘No, Inspector, I saw no one — although — yes, I remember now. I was about to make my way up the steps from the river when someone collided with me.’

‘Did you happen to see who it was?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘No. He just muttered some words of apology, and then continued on his way along the side of the river. If I remember correctly. I think he went in the Diglis direction,’ replied Edwards, scratching his head.

‘Doctor Edwards, do you think the man could have been Evelyn?’

‘I don’t know, Inspector. It was very dark and he had his face covered, but I suppose it could have been Evelyn, although I would not like to swear that it definitely was him.’

‘Tell me, Doctor, when you reached the top of the steps and made your way back to your house-’

‘You seem particularly well informed with regard to my movements, Inspector Ravenscroft,’ said Edwards, becoming slightly annoyed.

‘The three Miss Tovey sisters saw you come up the steps, and return to your house.’

‘Ah, that would explain things. There is not much that those three sisters miss regarding the affairs of the cathedral and its inhabitants. But I think you were going to ask me whether I saw anyone else during my travels — and the answer is no.’

‘You did not see a monk leaving the cathedral?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘I have already said that I saw no one else that night,’ replied Edwards firmly.

‘Thank you, Dr Edwards. You have been most informative.’

‘Glad to have been of service, but if you will now excuse me gentlemen, I have a Latin class to take.’

‘Of course, sir,’ said Ravenscroft, then adding, ‘we may have need to speak with you again,’ as the master strode down the nave.

‘I think we may have annoyed him, sir,’ said Crabb closing his notebook.

‘That’s as may be, but we are investigating a possible murder, and the disappearance of a valuable book. Now, it is my intention to call upon Sir Arthur Griffiths. He is the Member of Parliament for Worcester and resides in one of the houses in the Close. Can you go to the Worcester Library and find out all you can about him? There are no doubt a number of reference books you can consult. Whilst you are there, you might as well see if you can find any entries for the Master of King’s, Dr Geraint Edwards. I will see if I can locate any of the monks who frequent the cathedral. One of them might be able to recall the events of the night Evelyn disappeared.’

‘Right, sir. You might even be able to find out which one of them was prowling around the cathedral that night.’

‘We can but hope, Crabb. I’ll see you in the Old Talbot at lunchtime.’

‘I look forward to some more of their excellent cheese, sir,’ said Crabb.

Ravenscroft made his way around the near empty cathedral, pausing now and again to study one of the worn effigies, or to read one of the numerous plaques, that had been placed by succeeding generations, on the walls of the building. Now that the choirboys had left, he found the silence of the holy place almost overpowering and, looking upwards at the mighty roof, he felt the sudden insignificance of his own transient existence.

‘My son.’

The voice made him turn.

‘I did not mean to startle you.’ The speaker was a tall, thin, elderly monk.

‘I was admiring the Chantry,’ said Ravenscroft.

‘Ah, Prince Arthur’s Chantry. You know the story?’

‘No. I’m afraid not.’

‘Prince Arthur was Arthur Tudor, eldest son of King Henry VII and brother to Henry VIII. Unfortunately he died before his father, and therefore never ascended the throne. Had he survived, there would probably have been no Henry VIII and no English Reformation. The whole course of English History might have been totally different — no Mary Tudor or Queen Elizabeth, perhaps not even the Stuart succession. Strange how these things turn out.’

‘Indeed so,’ replied Ravenscroft, observing that the monk spoke in a quiet, almost musical tone of voice.

‘But I sense that your interest lies not completely in admiring the cathedral architecture.’

‘You are correct in your assumption. I have been called in by the cathedral authorities to investigate the disappearance of the Whisperie. ’

‘Then you must be Inspector Ravenscroft. My name is Jonus, Brother Jonus.’

‘I am pleased to meet you,’ said Ravenscroft shaking the other’s hand. ‘Are there many monks still associated with the cathedral?