Kerry Tombs - The Malvern Murders

‘Strange how he remembered about the disagreements at the almshouses just as we were leaving, and yet he was quite adamant when we arrived that Pitzer had not an enemy in the world.’

‘Just slipped his mind I suppose.’

‘Then at the end of our visit, he thought that he had said too much. Anyway I think you and I should make a visit to these almshouses, and have a few words with this Armitage fellow. Where are they again exactly?’

‘At Colwall, sir, that’s about four miles away, over the other side of the hills.’

‘Good. I have to return unfortunately to the Tudor for my next treatment. Meet me outside the building at three this afternoon. I’ll have Stebbins arrange a cab for us to travel over to Colwall. Until then Crabb I wish you adieu.’

‘And you sir. I hope you enjoy your bath,’ shouted a smiling Crabb as he walked away down the road.

After suffering the rigours of yet another warm bath and being bound tightly like an Egyptian mummy for what had appeared to be an eternity, Ravenscroft was pleased to be closing the door of the Tudor behind him, and to be climbing into the cab that was to take Crabb and himself to the nearby village of Colwall.

‘And how goes the water treatment with you this afternoon sir?’ asked Crabb in a jovial tone of voice.

‘Exceedingly badly thank you Crabb. I cannot understand what on earth possessed me to make the decision to subject myself to such strange tortures,’ replied Ravenscroft in annoyance.

‘I’m sure it must be doing you a power of good sir. You will no doubt feel the benefits when you return to London,’ said Crabb trying to offer some words of encouragement to his superior.

‘I should doubt that very much, but enough of the water cure and the Tudor. It is a fine afternoon, and I am looking forward to our excursion to Colwall. Drive on!’

Ravenscroft sat back in the cab and prepared to enjoy the scenery. During the next twenty minutes or so, their journey took them first towards the direction of Pitzer’s house, before a sharp turn to their right took them up a long steep road almost to the top of the hill, enabling the two men to enjoy the wide ranging views over the Worcestershire countryside. Reaching the summit, the cab passed through a narrow passageway between two hills before pausing for a moment or so, enabling Ravenscroft and his companion to marvel at the rugged landscape that opened up before them.

‘This is known as the Wyche sir, so called after the old salt route that ran over the hills between the counties of Worcester and Hereford. Colwall is just down there,’ informed Crabb pointing to the winding route that lay before them.

‘I see now why this area attracts so many visitors.’ replied Ravenscroft, his face turned towards the welcoming rays of the afternoon sun.

The cab man flicked his whip and the cab continued its journey, turning first left, then right, then left again, and so on, down the steep meandering road, until the way ahead finally became straight and stretching into the distance. As they entered the village of Colwall they past a number of cottages, each with their own neat little gardens, until the cab halted on the edge of what Ravenscroft supposed to be the village green.

The two men alighted from the cab, and Crabb gave instructions to the driver that he was to wait for their return. There in front of them lay a row of black and white thatched cottages.

‘These are Old Lechmere’s Almshouses,’ said Crabb pointing at the buildings.

Outside the nearest cottage, two old men sat talking together and smoking long clay pipes.

‘Good day my man,’ said Crabb addressing the first man. ‘We have come to speak with Mr. Armitage. Do you know where he is?’

‘No good asking him. He can’t speak. Lost his tongue in an argument with his wife,’ said the second man indicating his companion.

‘Can you tell me where Mr. Armitage is then?’ asked Crabb.

‘No good asking me. I can’t ’ear yer. Lost me ’earing on account of my wife shouting so much!’ answered the first, old man laughing.

‘Come on Crabb, we will perhaps do better looking for him ourselves,’ interjected Ravenscroft, realising that any further attempts of conversation would be futile.

‘I think your right sir. Thank you gentlemen,’ said Crabb.

The two policemen moved on.

‘What did they want then?’ asked a voice behind them.

‘Wanted to know where young Armitage was,’ replied the second old man, ‘Told him we can’t help him on account of our wives.’

The two men chuckled.

‘Take no notice of them sir. Their brains be addled,’ said Crabb shaking his head.

They continued walking past a number of the cottages, until they reached a slightly larger building which was separated from the rest of the row.

‘I fancy this might be where the warden lives,’ suggested Crabb walking up a path, which ran between rows of red and white rose bushes, towards the front door. Before they could raise the knocker however, they were interrupted by a voice coming from the corner of the garden.

‘May I be of assistance to you two gentlemen?’

The speaker was a tall, thin gentleman, dressed in country attire and a garden apron, and sporting a fine long red flowing beard. Ravenscroft guessed his age to be around thirty years or so.

‘Do we have the pleasure of addressing Mr. Armitage?’ inquired Ravenscroft.

‘You do,’ replied the other

‘My name is Inspector Ravenscroft. This is Constable Crabb. We are investigating the death of Mr. Jabez Pitzer of Malvern Wells.’

‘Pitzer, dead you say? I was not aware that he had died,’ replied Armitage placing his gardening bucket on the ground before him, and wiping his dirty hands on his apron.

‘He died yesterday evening sir,’ said Crabb taking out his pocket book from his tunic.

‘What terrible news. How did he die?’

‘We have reason to believe that he was poisoned,’ said Ravenscroft.

Armitage turned away. ‘I don’t see what this has to do with me.’

‘We are trying to build up a picture of Mr. Pitzer’s business concerns, and we think you could be of assistance. I understand that he was one of the trustees of the almshouses?’

‘As indeed were a number of other gentlemen. The trust deed states that there shall always be ten trustees of the almshouse. They were founded in the 16th century, by a local benefactor, Sir Nicholas Lechmere.’

‘How long have you been warden here?’

‘Three years.’

‘We understand that you and Mr. Pitzer had a falling out over a few matters concerning the running of the almshouses,’ said Ravenscroft closely observing the young man’s expression.

‘Ah, I see you think I killed Pitzer because we had a falling out, as you said so eloquently put it sergeant,’ laughed Armitage picking up his bucket and moving off towards his doorway.

‘Inspector,’ corrected Ravenscroft.

‘Inspector, well then, this must indeed be a serious matter, if the Malvern Constabulary has secured the services of an inspector to investigate Pitzer’s death.’

‘This is not a matter to be taken lightly sir,’ said Crabb.

‘I am sure not. There was no offence intended.’

‘And none taken Mr. Armitage,’ said Ravenscroft, ‘You would oblige us though by informing us as to the nature of these differences of opinion, if you would be so kind.’

‘Oh dear Inspector, I’m sure that if I told you all about our little matters of difference of opinion, I would be in danger of detaining you here until the sun sets over that field.’

‘We have plenty of time at our disposal.’ Ravenscroft was becoming irritated by the warden’s casual manner.

‘Well I’m afraid I haven’t. Good day to you two gentlemen.’