Kerry Tombs - The Malvern Murders

Ravenscroft had become aware of the increasing bitterness in her voice, and felt helpless in her presence, saying only, ‘I am sorry’ and knowing that it would not be enough. Suddenly she turned on him, a new anger replacing the agony in her voice.

‘Sorry! That is all you can say, after all those whores have done to my family. I tell you Mister Ravenscroft that I will not rest until I have tracked them all down, every one of those evil women, and made them pay for the pain and suffering they have inflicted on my son!’

‘My dear Mrs. Kelly, I must urge restraint. I appreciate the way you feel now, but you cannot take the law into your own hands. I know that you have suffered this terrible loss, but whatever you do now will not bring your son back to life.’

‘So you would have me forget?’

‘No, my dear lady, you must never forget. I would ask only restraint, and to allow the passage of time to heal the pain,’ he urged.

‘We have spoken enough. I have said too much,’ she announced, suddenly standing up, ‘I wish you well in the apprehension of your killer.’

‘Please. I — er — please, we should talk some more,’ said Ravenscroft taken aback by the abrupt termination of their conversation.

‘The time for talking is past Mr. Ravenscroft. Good day to you,’ she said beginning to walk away.

‘But — will we ever meet again, Mrs. Kelly?’

‘I think so, Mr. Ravenscroft, I believe so.’

‘Then good day to you Mrs. Kelly,’ called out Ravenscroft, as he watched the lone figure walk out of the churchyard. He felt drained and moved by the words he had just heard, and cursed the feeble responses he had uttered, as her story had unfolded. Since their first encounters on the train journey to Malvern and at the Well House, his desire to know more about the mysterious dark veiled woman had grown, but now that curiosity had finally been fulfilled, he felt no personal satisfaction at its outcome, but rather ashamed that he had intruded on another’s grief.

He walked over to the grave, and looked down once more at the inscription on the stone. Anthony Kelly and his young son were both now at peace but for their mother the grief and bitterness continued. He wondered whether the anger which she so keenly felt would ever be lessened with the passing of the years; and whether she would ever gain the peace and acceptance that had eluded her for so long.

Later that afternoon he met up with Crabb outside the Assembly Rooms.

‘There you are sir. I’m afraid we have a slight problem,’ said Crabb clearly agitated.

‘Speak on Crabb.’

‘Jenkins, the constable we assigned to keep an eye on Touchmore, has just returned to the station to report that the reverend gentleman seems to have given him the slip. Apparently Touchmore was conducting a service in the church and went into the vestry at the end. When he did not reappear after fifteen minutes Jenkins went to investigate and found that there was no one in there. Apparently there was another door that led outside, and our reverend Touchmore must have decided to leave that way without telling anyone. I’ve asked Jenkins to check the usual places where the reverend might be.’

‘Let us trust that no danger befalls him,’ replied Ravenscroft.

‘He could have gone into hiding sir. If he were our killer, he may have decided to fly the nest, before he was discovered, if you see what I mean sir,’ said Crabb, ‘As the only surviving member of the original six members of your tontine, he stands to inherit a great deal of money.’

‘We do not know that he is the last. There also remains Lambert, or at least the possibility of Lambert’s child.’

‘You said you believed that the child was here in Malvern, sir?’

‘I am convinced of it. The child would now of course be in its late twenties.’

‘Armitage and Clifford would both be of that age,’ suggested Crabb.

‘Indeed. But we must also consider the possibility that he or she may have aged their appearance, in order to mask their true identity,’ replied Ravenscroft.

‘That could suggest Troutbridge sir.’

‘Or even that old Lambert himself has made a return.’

‘Surely someone would have recognized him?’

‘Not after nearly thirty years, if he had changed his appearance,’ said Ravenscroft.

‘Then our killer could be practically anyone. You said a moment ago sir, that the murderer could have been a woman?’

‘Yes, Lambert’s child could have been a girl.’

‘Miss Armitage? She and her brother could both be children of Lambert?’ suggested Crabb.

‘I think not.’

‘Then there is your veiled lady in black? You mentioned her the other day. Have you met with her again sir?’

‘I have indeed Crabb, but the information that she gave me was of a personal nature, and appears not to be related to this case.’

‘Well then, we seem no further forward, if you don’t mind me saying so, sir. Half the town could be included in our list of suspects.’

‘ No, I believe our killer is already well known to us. You have put it about the town that I am shortly to make an arrest?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘Indeed sir.’

‘I have also let it be known that I am awaiting the replies from certain communications, before we close the case. It will not be long now Crabb before our murderer shows his, or her, final hand. Until then I suggest you go home to that charming wife of yours. I have taken you away from her for far too long.’

It was later that afternoon when Ravenscroft began to make his final ascent up the winding path to the well house of St. Ann.

‘Going out again, is we?’ Stebbins had asked him as he had walked through the entrance hall of the Tudor.

‘Indeed so, Stebbins, it’s a grand afternoon for a walk up to the Beacon.’

‘You wants to be careful up there, Mr. Ravenscroft. We had a gent staying with us last year, who broke his leg, and had to be carried down in the dark.’

‘I assure you Stebbins that I have no intention of breaking a leg, or of falling over the edge in the darkness.’

As he had walked across the road, he had encountered Clifford. ‘Good afternoon to you Mister Ravenscroft.’

‘Good afternoon to you Mr. Clifford.’

‘Have you apprehended your murderer yet, inspector?’ the librarian had asked.

‘Not yet, Mr. Clifford, but we are expecting to make an arrest very soon.’

The librarian had given a polite nod, before making his way along the Terrace.

Now pausing half way up the path, Ravenscroft turned slightly to see whether another was following him, but could see no one and continued on his way.

Upon reaching the well house he found the attendant still in residence, but busily engaged in locking up the premises for the night. He exchanged a few words of greeting with the old woman, before seeking out the path, at the rear of the property, which he knew would take him further up onto the higher reaches of the hills.

Fifteen minutes later he reached the upper path which circled a large hill on the northern edge of the range, and looked down to where the well house nestled in the cleft of the lower hills. It seemed so small and insignificant in the distance, sheltering from the elements and already in shadow. Ravenscroft wiped his brow, and wondered at his own agility and stamina in climbing so far in such a short time. Below him the tower of the Priory stood tall and firm, dominating the rest of the town. He saw the roads and the fields stretching out into the distance, and thought he saw the edges of the town of Worcester at the horizon’s edge to the north, and the meandering river on the plain on its way to Upton and Tewkesbury. The sun was beginning to set over the western side of the hills behind him, leaving vast areas of the near landscape in shadow as he looked down.