Chapter Seventeen
Lady Hardcastle managed to stabilize JB and, with a first-aid kit supplied by Crawford, properly dressed his wounds. We carried him to his bed, and Lady Hardcastle, Dotty and Patience took turns in sitting with him to make sure he stayed fit enough to stand trial.
Meanwhile, we locked Wilson and Lily in their rooms – still bound in the shackles Dotty had found, of course – and Bridgewater and I stood watch in the corridor in two-hour shifts just in case.
Having been given the details of the events she’d not been able to see in the dining room – though she had surmised most of it for herself – Clarice had retired to her room and was the only one of us to get a full night’s sleep.
Apart from the Crawfords, of course, who carried on as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Breakfast was served as usual at eight o’clock.
After a brief conference, it was agreed that we could leave the Wilsons unattended – if they were shackled and locked in rooms in a Tudor fort, they weren’t going to go anywhere – and that Patience would keep an eye on JB while the other two ate with the rest of us.
And so Bridgewater, Dotty, Clarice, Lady Hardcastle and I met in the dining room and helped ourselves to the usual delicious selection of food.
‘There’s something that’s been bothering me, Gran darling,’ said Clarice as she tucked in to the sausage and egg sandwich I’d made for her.
‘Just the one thing?’ said Bridgewater. ‘You’re doing far better than I, old girl. I don’t think I’ve ever been so befuddled.’
‘Well, quite. I always felt it was your natural state. But in your perpetual befuddlement, you still managed to bring a gun to dinner. What on earth made you think of that?’
Bridgewater laughed. ‘Nothing more than self-preservation. Everett was dead, my friend was dead, and the culprit was still among us. Who knew which of us might be next. I didn’t want Dotty or me to be run through with any more of JB’s vicious knick-knacks so I pinched one of his guns and some ammunition and slipped it in my pocket.
At least it would give us a fighting chance. ’
‘It certainly did,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Well done, you.’
‘And well done, you,’ said Dotty. ‘You worked out what was going on and saved the day.’
‘I almost got us all killed in the process, though, let’s not forget. I really should have considered the possibility that JB would try to do us all in. One gets so used to having the rozzers about at moments like that that one forgets killers are apt to try to kill again when they’re cornered.’
‘I just wish I’d seen it,’ said Clarice. ‘But then I wish I could see anything at all. Good to know my friends are looking out for me.’
‘Always, old thing,’ said Bridgewater, and patted her on the arm.
‘What happens now?’ asked Dotty.
‘I spoke to Crawford and he said Vickerman is due at ten. I thought one of us could go straight back to the mainland with him to fetch the police, and then they could take it from there. We should be away and on our way back to our homes by late afternoon, all being well.’
‘What will happen to the Crawfords?’ asked Clarice.
‘I was about to say that I have power of attorney over JB’s affairs and that I’d take care of them,’ said Bridgewater, ‘but I’m about to be arrested, too, I don’t doubt. Still, they’re paid through one of JB’s many trusts so they’ll still be employed. I suppose it’s up to them what they do.’
‘They’ll probably want to stay on for as long as they can,’ I said. ‘I think they’ve got a lucrative smuggling business going on here.’
‘Then they should be arrested, too,’ said Dotty, indignantly.
‘We’ve no proof,’ I said. ‘It’s mere conjecture on my part.’
‘Is there proof of your impropriety, Granville?’ said Lady Hardcastle.
‘If one knows where to look,’ he said, wearily. ‘I covered my tracks well, but a skilled accountant – someone like RVSP, for instance – would be able to find it.’
‘But without such expert testimony, it would just be your word against JB’s?’
‘For the time being, yes.’
‘It’s entirely a matter for you, dear, but in your shoes I should be inclined to ponder the moral position as well as the strictly legal.
Is it always wrong to steal from a criminal?
Is there a sense in which he might – morally, at least – now owe you a significant sum in reparation for planning to see you hang for crimes he had commissioned others to commit?
I’m no lawyer, and no moral philosopher, but it’s food for thought . . .’
‘I certainly won’t say anything,’ said Clarice.
We finished breakfast and agreed that it would be best if Patience, Lady Hardcastle and I went down to the dock to meet Vickerman and his boat.
Dotty and Bridgewater would keep an eye on the prisoners, and Clarice could make more jokes about not being able to keep an eye on anything.
It seemed like a sensible division of labour.
I was sent to the cliff at the entrance to the tiny harbour from where I was to try to attract Vickerman’s attention and warn him of the sunken obstruction a few yards from the jetty.
We had taken a good look and decided there was plenty of room for him to dock, but it was plain that if he just came barrelling in as though everything were normal, we’d have two sunken boats in the bay and still no way of getting home.
I saw the little fishing boat from some way out but withheld my waving until Vickerman was within hailing distance. As he drew nearer I could see that he was not alone and that one of the two men accompanying him appeared to be dressed in a policeman’s uniform.
That’s handy, I thought.
When I judged the boat close enough that Vickerman might hear me, I managed to attract his attention and he acknowledged my shouted warning by slowing down and turning carefully as he rounded the cliffs to enter the bay.
As he slowly eased into place, I scurried down to join Lady Hardcastle and Patience on the quayside.
We helped secure the boat’s lines before Vickerman and his two guests hopped ashore.
‘JB not about?’ asked Vickerman as he checked our rope work.
‘He’s in the fort,’ said Lady Hardcastle.
He indicated the uniformed policeman and his plain-clothes companion. ‘I see. Only I got these two fellas with me and they wants a word about two of his weekend guests.’
The man in the suit and raincoat raised his hat to Lady Hardcastle. ‘Inspector Ellis, madam. And this is Sergeant Satterly. Are you Mrs McIntyre?’
‘I’m Lady Hardcastle and these are Mrs Sidwell-Plant and Miss Armstrong. We’re guests of Mr McIntyre.’
‘Ah, so you’re Lady Hardcastle, are you? I was hoping I might bump into you. I’ve been liaising on a case with one of my fellow officers in Bristol, an Inspector Sunderland. I believe you two are acquainted.’
‘I should like to think we were good friends, yes.’
‘Excellent. He said you would be a useful ally and that I would be well advised to trust your judgement.’
Lady Hardcastle smiled. ‘Well, that was very kind of him, I must say. But why were you talking to him and why did my name come up?’
‘Both your names, actually. He also said Miss Armstrong would be handy in a scrap, but I confess I didn’t quite know what to make of that.
Nevertheless, I’ve been talking to forces in Manchester, London, Leeds and Bristol about a couple of villains we’ve been tracking after a job they did up Exeter.
Con merchants and thieves they are, and they’re wanted on suspicion of at least one murder. Guy and Susan Walker.’
‘I think we have them with us,’ said Lady Hardcastle, ‘though we know them as George Wilson and Lily Thacker.’
The inspector consulted his notebook. ‘Yes, that’s them. They used those aliases in Leeds. They’re up at the fort, you say?’
‘They are.’
‘I see. Well, they’re dangerous individuals, so I think you’d better wait down here while Sergeant Satterly and I go up and speak to them. Where will we find them?’
‘They’re shackled, and locked in their rooms. I don’t think they’ll be any trouble.’
He looked puzzled.
‘It’s a long story, Inspector. We’ll walk up with you and explain on the way.’ She turned back to Vickerman. ‘And you need to have a word with Peggy and Crawford, dear. I think they’ve got something for you.’
We walked up to the fort together and, between the three of us, told Inspector Ellis the story of the weekend.
We came in through the main door and Vickerman went across the hall to the servants’ quarters.
The inspector nodded towards him as he went. ‘Anything we should know about there?’
‘No,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Just a private matter among friends.’
‘He’s a sly one, that Tommy Vickerman, mind,’ said the sergeant. ‘I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve had him in our cells over one thing or another.’
‘It’s all fine, honestly. Now the . . . what did you say their real names were? The Welshes?’
‘The Walkers, m’lady,’ said the inspector.
‘Ah yes, do forgive me. The Walkers are up here on the first floor. Mr Bridgewater has been keeping an eye on them. Everything all right, Mr B?’
‘Quiet as church mice, Lady H,’ said Bridgewater with a cheery wink. ‘They both took some breakfast about half an hour ago and gave me a mouthful of abuse for my troubles, but they’ve been good as gold since then.’
Bridgewater unlocked Wilson’s door and let the inspector and the sergeant in while we all waited outside.
‘How’s the patient?’ asked Lady Hardcastle.
‘Dot says he’s in a considerable amount of pain, but I can’t say I’m at all unhappy about that,’ said Bridgewater. ‘Serves the blighter right, I say.’
‘Well, quite. I’m sure they’ll let him have some morphine when he gets to the hospital at Plymouth.’
‘Will they? That’s a shame. Ah, well. Can’t be helped, eh?’
A short while later, the two policemen emerged and asked to be let into Lily’s room.
We made small talk while we waited, and at length the two men reappeared.