Kerry Tombs - The Malvern Murders

But he told himself that he had not climbed the hill, alone, and at this late hour of the afternoon to marvel at the ancient lands before him. His eyes strained to see if he could see another following in his footsteps, but however hard he looked he could see no one. Ravenscroft sighed. Perhaps this had been a foolish venture after all, and he should retrace his steps back to the well house and the town, before that side of the hill was completely in shadow?

Then he looked along the path to his right, to where the great hill seemed to stare down on them all — and there in the distance he saw the small outline of a figure — and he knew that his quest would shortly be rewarded.

He walked for another minute, and then paused, and thought he saw the other beginning to walk along the path in his direction.

Ravenscroft continued his walk, away from the figure, towards the slopes of the northern hill, not wishing to turn round, should his follower consider that he had been observed in so doing. As he quickened his pace he felt the beat of his heart becoming louder. He paused once more, and under the pretext of removing one item of his footwear to free its inside from an imaginary stone, he glanced over his shoulder quickly and saw that the figure had closed the distance between the two of them.

Quickly replacing his boot, he continued with his journey. At this time of the early evening, when the paths were free from walkers, and the sun was setting, he began to feel that the quiet eerie peace of the hills above him would suddenly overwhelm and engulf him. A man could fall to his death out here, he thought, or lie injured all night beneath the stars and no one would ever know of his plight and his loss. He drew his coat closer to him as he felt a cold shiver run down his back.

He walked faster now, knowing all the time that the other would be gaining upon him, and that their meeting would be inevitable.

In the distance he could see the rock of the Ivy Scar coming into view. He increased his pace so that he might reach the seat near its summit in good time. He looked behind him and saw that the figure had stopped also, and was looking in his direction. Dressed entirely in black from head to toe, Ravenscroft was unable, however, to make out the features of his pursuer.

He gained the seat, near the edge of the rock, where the land fell away sharply, and stared out at the landscape below him, waiting for the other to join him — knowing that shortly he would be able to confirm everything he had suspected.

‘Good evening to you Mister Ravenscroft,’ said the figure in the black cloak sitting down beside him.

Ravenscroft said nothing, as the other continued, ‘A fine view up here, I think you would agree? So isolated, and yet you feel you have the world at your feet, so much so, that you could almost feel you could achieve almost anything. You have done well Mr. Ravenscroft. I gather you have received the replies to your telegrammes?’

‘I did indeed receive these, late this afternoon’ said Ravenscroft reaching deep into his coat pocket, and taking out some sheets of folded paper.

‘The first reply confirms that Charles Lambert was a medical practitioner in Grange-Over-Sands, for many years, until his death five years ago. The second confirms the birth of his child, a child who joined his father in the medical practice when it grew up, becoming in fact a partner in that same concern. When Charles Lambert died, the practice was sold, and his son who also went by the name of Charles Lambert, moved to Malvern where he changed his name — becoming the proprietor and chief medical officer of the Tudor Hydropathic Establishment! You did well Doctor Mountcourt — or should I say Doctor Lambert — to conceal your identity, — but not well enough.’

‘I really must congratulate you on your fine detective work,’ said Mountcourt smiling, ‘May I ask when it was you first suspected me?’

‘As soon as I discovered the true significance of the walking sticks this morning, I recalled that other morning when we encountered each other outside St. Ann’s Well. Your stick made a tapping sound on the path, and I remember looking up and seeing the silver handle.’

‘Yes that was rather foolish and vain of me. I inherited the stick from my father, and as it was such a fine stick, I could not resist using it.’

‘Then there was the morning after my illness, when you were quite put out when you learnt that I was staying on at the Tudor, and in Malvern, to continue with my investigations into the case. You had hoped that there had been enough suspicion put on Old Penny to warrant an end to the matter. You were not very good at disguising your feeling Doctor Lambert.’

‘I see I have underestimated you Inspector Ravenscroft.’

‘From my first hand observations I could also see that the Tudor had seen better days,’ continued Ravenscroft. ‘The premises must have been costing you a lot to run and maintain, and yet the half empty dining room and treatment rooms suggested that you had not been successful in attracting a sufficient wealthy clientele.’

‘You are correct inspector in your observations,’ replied Mountcourt calmly.

‘Tell me one thing. Did you come back to Malvern with the intention of removing the other members of the tontine, or did the idea take root once you had arrived here?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘My father told me about the legacy of the tontine shortly before he died, and urged me to seek out my claim. When I heard that the Tudor was up for sale, I decided to return to Malvern and purchase the establishment, a rash act which was to prove costly for me. The first thing I did upon my arrival here was to visit the bank to see if I could find out more about the surviving founders of the tontine, but of course they knew nothing. Then I thought that perhaps the original papers had been lodged at the Library and Reading Rooms, so one day I went there to view them. It was an easy act to remove the original foundation document from the file, whilst Clifford was attending to another client. Now that I knew who the other members of the tontine were, I was prepared at first to wait for each of them to die — they were after all quite elderly, and would be sure to die in the coming years. I also learnt that none of them had any surviving heirs, which made my own claim all the stronger.’

‘But you found after a while that you could not wait?’ interjected Ravenscroft.

‘My debts at the Tudor were mounting. I had little funds available to improve the facilities, and the clientele began to go elsewhere to the more fashionable establishments in the town. I was heavily mortgaged and knew that another few months would have seen the end of all my hopes,’ continued Mountcourt in a dry matter-of-fact tone of voice. ‘So I decided to kill Pitzer. I wrote him a letter saying that I had some important confidential news concerning the railway company, that might be of some financial benefit to him, but that I could not be seen conversing with him, as I had interests in a rival concern. I knew that he could not resist such a meeting, being the greedy man that he was. I arranged for a boy from the town to deliver the letter, and then kept my rendezvous with Pitzer in his study. Here it was easy to pour the poison into his glass, when he was not looking, but as he fell forwards he dropped the glass on the floor, and the maid called out. I was fearful that she might enter at any moment, so I only had time to pick up the glass and remove my letter before hastily leaving the room.’

‘Leaving the door slightly ajar behind you, and not having time to rinse out the glass,’ added Ravenscroft.

‘I suppose you would have noticed that. If you had not been there that night Ravenscroft, I would have succeeded in my plans. I knew that stupid man Gladwyn would have declared that Pitzer had died of a stroke, or some such like, and no one would have guessed that he had been poisoned — but then you had to interfere,’ said Mountcourt a note of annoyance creeping into his voice.