Heartstone (Matthew Shardlake #5)(137)

I turned to Wilf. ‘Did anyone from round here, apart from Master Fettiplace and your friend Gratwyck, go missing at the time of the fire? Someone who might have done this and fled?’

Wilf’s face was streaked with mud and tears and rain. ‘No sir,’ he said, ‘nobody.’





Chapter Thirty-four


WILF INSISTED we put Fettiplace’s body under cover, and we placed the desiccated corpse against an inside wall of the ruined foundry, protecting it with loose planks. It was sickening to carry; I feared it might come apart. Afterwards I looked over the cracked mud where the body had lain; already the space, and our footsteps, were filling with rainwater. Then we walked back, sodden and dripping.

‘Now I suppose we have to go to Buttress,’ Barak said quietly, ‘as magistrate.’

‘Yes. He will have to set enquiries in motion, and notify the Sussex coroner.’ I shook my head. ‘Murder follows me on this journey.’

‘The common factor in each is Priddis’s involvement.’ Barak lowered his voice to a whisper, though Wilf was ahead with Caesar. ‘You said Ellen’s signature on the deed conveying the house was forged. Do you think Buttress knows?’

‘He could do. I didn’t like what I saw of him.’

The vicarage came into view. I took Wilf’s arm. ‘You should send for your sons,’ I said gently. ‘You have had a shock.’

He came to himself, looked at me. ‘You’ll say nothing about my poaching?’

‘No. I promised. We shall tell the story as we agreed, that I asked you to show me the old foundry buildings today.’

Seckford had seen us approaching and came into his garden. ‘What did you find?’ he asked apprehensively.

‘The body of Master Fettiplace.’ I took the curate’s soft plump arm, and looked him in the face. ‘Sir, Wilf will need you sober now. We all will.’

He took a deep breath and turned to Wilf. ‘His body will have a Christian burial. I shall see to it.’

We went into the parlour. Seckford spoke with sudden firmness. ‘That jug, Master Shardlake, will you take it out to the kitchen?’

I took his beer to a filthy little room behind the parlour, where flies buzzed over dirty plates. Seckford seemed barely able to care for himself, but once he had cared for Ellen. I returned to the parlour, where Wilf was hunched on the settle. Seckford was in his chair.

‘Master Seckford,’ I said, ‘I think we must go to Master Buttress, now. All four of us.’

‘Will the truth be found?’ he asked. ‘This time?’

‘I hope so. Now listen please, both of you. I beg you to stay quiet about my personal interest. Let Buttress continue to think I have merely been trying to trace family links for a client.’

Seckford looked at me with sudden sharpness. ‘But if you found something out in London, surely that must come out now.’

‘There are reasons I should say nothing yet. Please trust me.’ More than ever now I did not want Buttress, or his allies, to discover where Ellen was – assuming they did not know already. I hoped desperately that I had done enough to protect her, and suddenly wished Wilf had never stumbled on that body. The old man was looking at me doubtfully again.

Seckford came to my rescue. ‘We must trust Master Shardlake, Wilf. Do not say more than you have to in dealing with people like Buttress, eh, Master Shardlake?’

‘Exactly.’ I felt a rush of gratitude for Seckford’s trust. He stood, went over to Wilf and patted his arm. ‘We can call at the church on the way, I will write a note for the verger to take to your sons.’



AN HOUR LATER I sat again in Master Buttress’s well-appointed parlour. There was a fresh vase of flowers on the table, their scent cloying. Seckford sat beside me, his plump cheeks sweating a little, while Barak and Wilf stood behind us. Buttress had offered chairs only to Seckford and me, though Wilf looked shocked and ill.

Buttress himself walked up and down the room, hands clasped behind his broad back, as I told him of the discovery in the pond. When I had finished he ran a big hand through his grey curly hair, thinking. Then he came and stood looking down at me.

‘What I do not understand, Master Shardlake,’ he said with blustering aggression, ‘is why you went ferreting about at the foundry. When you came before your concern seemed to be in querying my right to this house.’

‘I did not imply anything of the sort, sir. I merely wished to see if there was an address for Mistress Fettiplace on the deeds. You agreed to show the document to me.’ I had not questioned his ownership of the property, but the guilty, I thought, easily take alarm. Buttress, I realized, was quite a stupid man.

He grunted, little brown eyes narrowing. ‘In my experience, when a lawyer asks to see a conveyance it is usually because he wishes to query the title.’

‘Then I apologize if I caused you unnecessary concern. I see I must have done, since Master Seckford and Goodman Harrydance tell me you made enquiries about my visit afterwards.’

‘But why ride back all this way to look at the ruins of that foundry?’

‘I had a day without business in Hampshire, and felt like a ride. Master Seckford had told me Goodman Harrydance knew the site.’

‘And all this because you have a client interested in tracing family links. Who is this client, anyway?’