Chapter 43
The first thing Wesley did when they returned to Tradmouth was to call Penny Worksop.
She reiterated that she was sure that no building work was carried out at St Julian’s while her father owned the property, adding that she’d found no record of it among his papers.
In the end, Wesley concluded that unless Bingley himself had killed Aleric Donnal, which seemed unlikely, any work done must have been carried out by one or more of the tenants without the landlord’s permission or knowledge.
He thought Betsy and Barnaby Chalmers could be ruled out, which left two people: Jim Baker and Carlo Lanzani.
And they didn’t even know the latter’s real name.
He’d been sure that Baker had been holding something back, but was it the fact that he’d killed Donnal? Or knew who had?
When Wesley approached Rob Carter’s desk, the DC was gazing out of the window.
Wesley couldn’t blame him; it was a great view, especially now that a cruise ship had moored in the centre of the river and was disgorging its passengers via a number of small tenders, which were buzzing to and from the embankment like insects on the water.
‘Rob, I need a list of students who were registered in Aleric Donnal’s department at Morbay University at the time he was working there.’
Rob jumped, and Wesley couldn’t help smiling inwardly at the guilty expression on the young man’s open freckled face.
‘Yes, sir. I’ll get onto it right away.’
Wesley walked to Gerry’s office to let him know about Rob’s quest, emphasising that it might take some time. Patience wasn’t one of Gerry’s principal virtues.
‘Sit down, Wes. I want to go over the case before my meeting with Auntie Noreen.’ Wesley smiled at his use of the nickname for the chief super. ‘She’s nagging me about progress. Says the media’s getting jumpy about the possibility that there’s a serial killer about.’
‘Serial killer? That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?’
‘Well, there’ve been three murders. One back in 2011 and two recently. Isn’t the definition of serial killings three or more murders?’
There was a knock on the door and Rob burst in. ‘I’ve got that list.’ He handed a printout to Gerry with the eager pride of a small child giving his mother a treasured piece of artwork.
‘Well done, Rob. That was quick.’ The DCI thought the young man deserved praise for his efficiency. He scanned the page. ‘There’s a Charles Lanson on the list. He lives in Ilfracombe.’
Wesley’s mouth fell open. ‘Charles Lanson. Carlo Lanzani.’
A grin spread across Gerry’s face. ‘We’d better get him brought in.’
*
The holy well was fully visible now, and its shape was clear.
The base was sheltered by what looked like an arch made of skilfully dressed stone.
Some of the stones had collapsed, but it hadn’t taken much effort to put them back in place.
The masons who’d created the shelter over the natural spring had known what they were doing.
The spring itself had been excavated until the diggers reached the bubbling source, and now, instead of a patch of squelchy ground overgrown with weeds and grass, there was a small clear pool fringed with a semicircle of stone, just as it would have been in the Middle Ages.
More offerings had been found: coins and trinkets left by those seeking the saint’s favour.
When Neil stood back to admire it, he felt rather pleased with himself.
‘I never thought we’d find anything like this.’ Helen Jones was standing by his side. Her enthusiasm for the discoveries in her extensive garden didn’t appear to have waned.
‘St Julian’s Well. Once known, according to documents I’ve seen, as St Catherine’s Well. Don’t ask me why the name was changed, because I don’t know.’
‘I’m sure you’ll find out.’ She gave him a flirtatious smile.
‘I wouldn’t be too sure. Some things are destined to remain a mystery. Have you persuaded your husband not to put the house on the market?’
She turned her head away, as though it was something she didn’t wish to think about. Neil noticed that when she was pursuing her interest in the dig, she had the look of an excited child. When she was talking to her husband, she almost became a different person.
After a few seconds, she mumbled, ‘He found out that I hadn’t been to the estate agent’s, so he went himself. They’re coming to do a valuation tomorrow.’
‘I can tell you’re not pleased about it.’
‘I want to stay.’
‘Even after finding that body in the wall?’
‘I’ve already told you, it doesn’t bother me. Whatever happened is long in the past – like that skeleton you found buried near the chapel.’
‘I’ve just had word about that from our bone specialist. She’s as sure as she can be that the man was hanged, then a few years later his body was moved and reburied here.
In those days they usually buried hanged felons or suicides outside churchyards or at crossroads, so why was he moved to consecrated ground? ’
‘Maybe after they hanged him, they found out he was innocent,’ Helen said quietly.
This was something Neil had been wondering about, and the theory seemed to make sense. ‘My fiancée’s looking for any reference in the archives to a hanging, but it’s not an easy task.’
He noticed Helen purse her lips when Annabel was mentioned.
His phone began to ring, and he fished it out of one of the many pockets in his favourite digging trousers.
It was Annabel herself calling, and he turned away from Helen, who was watching him admiringly.
He was becoming a little embarrassed by her apparent devotion, but kept trying to tell himself that it was his imagination.
‘Hi, darling.’ He emphasised the endearment.
‘I’ve been digging around in the muniment room at Fontescue Hall.’
‘With Miles?’ He couldn’t resist the question.
‘Yes. He’s really excited too.’
Neil experienced an unexpected pang of jealousy. ‘So what have you found?’
There was a short silence before she answered. ‘Something very interesting. I think you’re going to love it.’
The team’s efforts were producing results.
The staff at a local estate agency had been co-operative and happy to break their working routine to delve into the drawers full of old files kept in their basement.
It had taken a while to find the information, but they’d been able to confirm that Timothy Fontescue-Burns had been given the keys to St Julian’s on 26 May 2011, only a day before the borrowed Book of Beasts was due to be returned.
As Donnal was by all accounts a fastidious man who was in the habit of returning books on time or even early, it was highly likely that he was killed before Tim took possession, which meant there was a twenty-day window, when four people would have been in residence.
Gerry agreed that Aphrodite and Apollo, alias Betsy and Barnaby Chalmers, and Ethelred Bingley were unlikely murderers. Which left Jim Baker and the mysterious Carlo Lanzani.
The results from the knife Neil had found at Sycamore House had come in from the lab. The staining was definitely blood, and the DNA was a match to Aleric Donnal’s.
The evidence was starting to point in one direction, and Wesley was hoping that Charles Lanson would prove to be a profitable line of enquiry when his phone rang, the sudden sound making him jump.
He’d almost forgotten that Sue Potter’s sister, Judith Peachy, was still in Tradmouth, so he was surprised to find that the call was from her.
‘You said I could call you any time,’ she began, sounding uncertain. This was true. Wesley had given her his private number and told her to contact him if she remembered anything – or even if she just needed someone to talk to. ‘I just wondered how you were getting on.’
Wesley was suddenly lost for words. How were they getting on? A patrol car had been sent to Charles Lanson’s address in Ilfracombe to bring him in for questioning. But it was far too early to make this public.
‘We’re following a number of leads,’ he answered, feeling awkward about fobbing her off with the usual trite statement. ‘Sorry I can’t tell you any more yet. How are you?’
‘I’ve still got a lot to arrange. I think the funeral should be down here, in the village church. That’s where Phil’s funeral was held, and I know that Sue felt really at home in Belsham.’
‘Have you anything to tell us?’ Wesley asked, more in hope than expectation. ‘Anything you’ve remembered since we last spoke?’
There was a long silence, and he sensed she had more to say. He waited, and eventually his patience was rewarded.
‘I told you that Sue and Phil used to come down here a lot on holiday, and that’s why they decided to retire here.’
‘Yes, you did.’
‘I think I also mentioned that a cousin of hers used to live here.’
Wesley pressed the phone closer to his ear. ‘That’s right. You said she went abroad.’
‘That’s what Sue was told.’
‘Wasn’t it true?’
There was another pause, as though she was deciding what to say next. ‘I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I didn’t tell you much about her cousin, did I? To be honest, I didn’t think it was relevant.’
‘And now you think it might be?’
‘I don’t know, but you said that any information might be helpful.
Anyway, her cousin’s name was Tina, and I remember Sue saying she’d married someone who had three kids – an older boy and two much younger ones, teenagers.
I think something happened to one of the younger kids; some kind of accident not long before Tina left her husband and went abroad.
Sue didn’t talk about it much and I did wonder whether she was hurt that Tina never got in touch to tell her where she was going.
As far as I know, they used to get on pretty well.
Funny that she cut Sue off like that, isn’t it? ’
A teenager killed in a tragic accident and a stepmother who’d vanished abroad. Wesley had heard something like this before. ‘Can you remember any more details?’
‘I think Sue mentioned once that Tina’s husband worked with animals.’
For a few moments Wesley was lost for words.