Property of a Lady(68)

Michael said, ‘Have the police found any trace of the man who took Beth?’

‘No. The policewoman who stayed with me while she was missing – Lisa – phoned yesterday to check she was all right. She said they hadn’t got any leads at all. They’re putting it down to a tramp, I think. Someone who took Beth, then panicked and beat it out of the area. She was left inside the church, by the way. They found traces of hair and shreds of wool from her scarf. There were a few hairs on a kneeler – they think that had been put under her head for a pillow, and a woollen cassock thrown over her. They said she’d have been perfectly snug and warm.’

‘Who put her on that grave, though?’

‘I don’t know. Neither does Inspector Brent. Someone who wanted her to be found, maybe? I suppose,’ said Nell, ‘the tramp theory might even be the truth.’

‘You don’t think so?’

‘What I think is so fantastic I don’t really believe it myself,’ said Nell. ‘A tramp would be horrible, but it’s easier to accept.’ She frowned as if to push away the memories. ‘Tell me what you thought about the article.’

‘One thing that struck me,’ said Michael, ‘was that William’s description of his burglar matched the description of the man I saw in Charect House that day. It matches Harriet’s description of the man who stood over her that day, as well.’

‘Then it wasn’t William either of you saw?’

‘It doesn’t seem like it. But if William was hanged for a crime he didn’t commit, it certainly gives him one of the classic reasons for haunting. D’you know, I don’t believe I ever imagined myself discussing ghosts quite so rationally,’ he said wryly. ‘You have a remarkable effect on me, Nell.’

‘It’s more likely the wine,’ she said, after a moment.

‘I expect so. What was the other jigsaw piece you found?’

‘Oh, that. Hold on, I’ll show you.’ She opened the drawer of the desk which housed the laptop and handed him a large envelope.

‘Property deeds?’

‘Yes. I’ve put the relevant one on top. It’s fairly old, so you have to be a bit careful – sorry, you’re probably used to dealing with old books and papers on a day-to-day basis.’


‘Well, not quite,’ said Michael, and he read the transfer of title on top of the deeds. Brooke Crutchley’s name leapt out at him at once, but he looked through the whole list before setting it down on the table. ‘So we’re in his house,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Brooke Crutchley – the man who made that sinister clock.’

‘Yes. And I can’t help thinking – feeling – that he’s at the heart of all this,’ said Nell. She was sitting on a low stool by the fire; the fire painted copper and bronze shadows into her hair, and Michael suddenly found he wanted to reach out and run his hands through her hair and cup her face between his hands.

‘Elvira said the man looking for her was an ordinary man – what was called Everyman.’

‘I remember that as well,’ said Nell, eagerly. ‘She said he enjoyed the company of his fellows and drinking beer with them at the end of his day’s work.’

‘Yes. What kind of man does that sound like to you?’

‘A workman of some kind,’ said Nell. ‘Not a labourer, exactly. Not someone who dug ditches or worked in the fields. Someone who worked with his hands.’

‘An artisan? A skilled craftsman?’

‘Yes.’ She turned from her contemplation of the fire to stare at him. ‘A cabinet maker,’ she said slowly. ‘Or a tailor or jeweller or stonemason. Or—’ She broke off, her eyes widening.

‘Or a clockmaker,’ said Michael.





TWENTY-TWO




‘But,’ said Nell, for the tenth time, ‘how does that get us any further?’

‘Do we really need to get any further?’

‘I think we do if we can. There’s still Ellie to think of. And there’s what happened to Beth.’

‘If we could find out what happened to Brooke Crutchley, that might give us a start,’ said Michael. ‘All we know is that he lived here – presumably he worked in the outbuildings behind the shop – and that he vanished and was presumed dead after— Wait a minute, how long was it?’

‘Seven years,’ said Nell. ‘I think that’s fairly standard in law for presumption of death.’ She had made a pot of coffee half an hour earlier, and they were still drinking it.

‘There’d have been a search for him, I should think,’ said Michael. ‘He sounds as if he was a well-known figure – modestly prosperous too, I should think. This house isn’t exactly a hovel, is it?’

‘No, and that auction catalogue refers to him as one of a famous clockmaking family. It was quite a reputable trade,’ said Nell. ‘Very skilled, and he’d have to have a knowledge of the mechanical side of things. Almost a jeweller on that score.’

‘They’d have searched this house for him,’ said Michael, leaning back in his chair and looking round the room. ‘So I shouldn’t think there’d be any clues after all this time. Even so . . .’ He frowned. ‘Nell, you might hate this, but I’d like to have a really thorough look at this place.’