A Full Churchyard Read online

  ‘Oh, it wasn’t lost, Mr Pluke,’ and Mrs Plumpton was quite strong in her rejection of his assessment of the case. ‘It was definitely stolen. That’s what I learned today.’

  ‘Really? And who provided that information?’

  ‘Mrs Frankland, she was next-door neighbour of Mr Lindsey, the old man whose watch was stolen. He was 89 years old and his son, Stephen, reported the crime. Mrs Frankland has always kept in touch with Stephen Lindsey who lives in the south now. . . .’

  ‘The watch disappeared and the old man couldn’t remember where he’d put it so when Stephen became aware of the loss he reported it stolen . . . am I right?’

  ‘Yes, and he told Mrs Frankland what he’d done, just in case the watch turned up. He felt she should know about it, being his next-door neighbour and a regular visitor to his home.’

  ‘So they were good friends?’

  ‘Yes, and she was always on hand in case he needed anything day and night.’

  ‘Where would the old folks be without good neighbours, Mrs Plumpton, we owe such a lot to them. And to the carers . . . we should not be afraid of growing old in Crickledale, should we?’

  ‘You’re absolutely right, Mr Pluke. Anyway, as I was saying, Mr Lindsey’s watch was definitely stolen. It wasn’t the case of an old man not remembering where he’d put it. He never took it off his wrist, according to Mrs Frankland. It was waterproof, shock proof and self-winding . . . the very best, a present for his 75th birthday. There was no need to remove it from his wrist so he never did so. That’s what she told me today. Apart from that, old Mr Lindsey never went out of the house alone, he couldn’t walk or pop into town to do his shopping, there was nowhere he could lose his watch except in the house or garden and both were very carefully searched by his son, Mrs Frankland, and the police. If it had been lost, there it would have been found. And, of course, after Mr Lindsey died, the house was sold – the watch was never found when the house was cleared after the funeral.’

  ‘Well done, Mrs Plumpton. I think I should send a memo to the duty inspector downstairs and instruct him to delete references to that watch from our lost property register. In view of what you say, it was properly recorded as a crime – and if it was taken from his house, then the crime should be burglary, not simple theft. Perhaps you could draft a memo for my signature?’

  ‘Yes, of course, Mr Pluke. But there is something else.’

  ‘Really, you have been busy! I must say I am impressed and grateful. There is no doubt you are a very good detective, Mrs Plumpton. We must use your talents again. So what else did you discover?’

  ‘Mr Lindsey is one of those people whose deaths you are investigating,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Is he? I haven’t reached his file yet. . . .’

  ‘It’s in my office,’ chipped in Wayne. ‘I’ll fetch it. Give me a minute.’

  He rushed from the discussion to return with a file jacket which he opened as he returned to his seat. He flicked through and said, ‘You’re right, Mrs Plumpton, a Mr Edgar Lindsey of 14, Normandy Terrace is on this list. His death was reported seven months ago.’

  ‘His watch was reported stolen about the same time, Mr Pluke. Its absence was noted by his son when he came to the house. He reported it to the police here in Crickledale the same day his father’s death was reported.’ Mrs Plumpton had clearly delved into his death, because she added, ‘I managed to spend a few minutes researching this. The death was reported as being sudden and unexpected despite Mr Lindsey’s great age and it was investigated by the uniform branch as a routine sudden death. The doctor could not certify the cause of death which occurred in Mr Lindsey’s own home, and so the coroner ordered a post mortem.’

  ‘Absolutely routine,’ nodded Pluke.

  ‘It was. Despite the circumstances, the pathologist decided the death was from natural causes. There was no inquest and no further police investigation. The CID was never notified.’

  ‘All that appears to be very satisfactory and is a perfectly normal situation, Mrs Plumpton, but clearly you have spotted something else?’

  ‘Perhaps I would not have thought it unusual until I knew about your cold-case reviews and some of the interesting deaths you have already highlighted. In this case, Mr Pluke, Mr Lindsey was found lying dead on the stone floor of his cottage, in the front entrance hall. His neighbour, Mrs Frankland, found him, she entered by the back door because it was standing open. He was dressed only in the trouser-bottoms of his pyjamas and was lying on his back. He wore no other clothes, not even his slippers.’

  ‘He was dead, you say?’

  ‘Yes he was. It was because of that odd situation that the police were called in – the uniform branch, that is. In the file, it says there were no injuries upon Mr Lindsey’s body although all the windows of his house were standing open. The front door was closed, he was lying against it but it was unlocked. There was no sign of a break-in and his bed had not been slept in.’

  ‘The open window syndrome again! So do we know how Mr Lindsey managed to get from his bed to be found lying on his back behind the front door and in the front entrance hall? On a cold stone floor? Was he trying to get out, I wonder? To call help?’

  ‘I doubt it, Mr Pluke. He had no need to leave the house to seek help. He had a bleeper that would have summoned Crickledale Carers if they were needed. All he had to do was press it – it was always hanging around his neck, even when in bed or in the shower. The reason for him going into the hall was never determined, except that he slept downstairs in what had formerly been the dining room. He was very frail and had difficulty walking, but his mental capabilities were quite normal. He was fully aware of what was going on around him.’

  ‘So how did he reach the hall if he was so frail, and even on the point of death?’

  ‘He used a Zimmer frame. The dining room had been equipped as a bedroom with a shower and toilet downstairs; that was done several years ago. Everything he needed was on the ground floor.’

  ‘So where was the Zimmer frame when he was found in the hall? Did the police check that?’

  ‘They did, Mr Pluke. It was still in his bedroom.’

  ‘So either he had managed to reach the passage without his Zimmer frame, or else he had used it to get there and someone had replaced it in his bedroom?’

  ‘According to the file, Mr Pluke, that fact was noted but the matter was never determined. It remained a mystery.’

  ‘You’ve done a remarkable job, Mrs Plumpton, I am most impressed. This means we have another odd death that was recorded as being due to natural causes. But there is an important element to this one, isn’t there? The gold watch. I’ve some thoughts about that. I wonder if my thoughts correspond with yours, Mrs Plumpton?’

  ‘I am sure your thoughts often correspond with mine, Mr Pluke, but in this case I wondered whether the missing watch had any connection with Mr Lindsey’s death? It was certainly valuable – worth several hundred pounds, according to our file.’

  ‘This raises a very important question that could be the key to all these deaths. Tell me what you think about all this, Mrs Plumpton. I appreciate your views.’

  ‘I want to hear this,’ added Wayne who had been sitting quietly through this conversation, but not overlooking a single detail. ‘I find the whole matter most intriguing – and it gets more so by the hour. Are we missing something that should be very clear to us?’

  ‘I wouldn’t like to suggest that,’ she smiled diplomatically. ‘But I’ve heard Mr Pluke and yourself saying in a case of serious crime, it can be the tiniest of details that opens the way to the truth.’

  ‘That’s very profound and very true, Mrs Plumpton,’ and Pluke actually smiled. ‘Did I say that? So what have we missed? I am finding our cold-case review much more difficult than the investigation of a current crime. Or perhaps I am getting too old for this sort of thing?’

  ‘Rubbis
h, sir!’ snapped Wayne. ‘Your brain is as active as ever, but surely the purpose of interviewing witnesses is to gather information that we’d never normally have access to. And Mrs Plumpton is fulfilling that role right now. She’s a witness, and a particularly good one. She is not competing against you or me.’

  ‘Then pray proceed, Mrs Plumpton.’

  ‘It’s that theft, Mr Pluke, the gold watch taken from Mr Lindsey’s house. Could that have been the real motive for someone being on the premises? To steal it from a vulnerable old man?’

  ‘And covering up the crime by staging a “natural” death. . . .’ whispered Pluke. ‘My goodness me, Mrs Plumpton, you might have stumbled upon the missing link! If the watch was valuable – as indeed any gold watch is – then how tempting for someone to steal it if its owner would never realize it had gone! And more especially if the owner died – the crime would never be reported, no one would know about it. Relatives might believe it had been buried with the deceased.’

  Wayne added his views, ‘Things went wrong with that theory because an alert son noticed the watch was missing – and reported it. And we – the police – failed to appreciate the importance of that fact, recording it as lost. People do steal from the dead, don’t they? In hospitals and mortuaries? So, Mrs Plumpton, is it now your belief that elderly people have been helped to die because someone stole something from them? On a regular basis. . . . The rogues were causing the old folk to die in what appeared to be completely natural circumstances even though their deaths were hastened somewhat? What a dreadful means of committing a crime and then covering it up. If this is what they are doing, then all those deaths are murders of old or vulnerable people . . . my goodness, sir, what a dreadful thought. I’m quite shocked by this. I think we suspected something of this kind but lacked the necessary proof.’

  Pluke remained silent for a few minutes with the enormity of Mrs Plumpton’s suggestion making him wonder how the police could have failed to notice those possibilities.

  ‘The only way to prevent a recurrence, Wayne, is to anticipate the next death and set a trap for the killers. We need to research all previous deaths that you have unearthed, reading the statements, checking any photographs, checking every fact before we reach any firm conclusions. It will take time, but it is most necessary.’

  ‘I can help,’ offered Mrs Plumpton.

  ‘Your contribution could be vital,’ smiled Pluke.

  ‘The truth could still remain concealed,’ cautioned Wayne. ‘If a visitor did take a valuable object from the home of one of these deceased persons, the thief could always say it had been a gift from the householder before death. How could anyone prove otherwise? We would never succeed in a prosecution of such a case.’

  ‘Remember, Wayne, that we are conducting a cold-case review and that means examining past cases that have never been detected. In other words, our initiative is already proving successful.’

  Wayne replied, ‘And there are three of us to share the load of the extra investigations; I think Mrs Plumpton is already proving to be an excellent addition to our strength. We must ask lots of questions – it could be that friends, neighbours, relations or care workers have reported objects missing and that no one has ever linked the reports with those deaths.’

  Pluke felt a glow of pride in the ability of his secretary and said, ‘All this is thanks to you, Mrs Plumpton. Without your feminine intuition we might never have noticed the connections.’

  ‘You know, sir,’ said Wayne. ‘If Mrs Plumpton is going to work with us rather than for us, then I think we should be more relaxed and refer to her by her first name. Mrs Plumpton does sound rather formal.’

  ‘There are matters of discipline and etiquette to be considered, Wayne and I call you Wayne because it sounds just like Wain and thus the emphasis upon formal address between ranks can be maintained. Just as I refer to Mrs Plumpton as Mrs Plumpton in order to preserve her dignity.’

  ‘But wouldn’t you like us to address you by your first name, Mrs Plumpton?’ asked Wayne.

  ‘No I would not!’ she affirmed without hesitation. ‘I do not know what my parents were about when they gave me my Christian name, as it was then called. It is dreadful, a most awful name for a girl. I much prefer to be called Mrs Plumpton.’

  ‘But surely your family and friends call you something else? A pet name: Betsy, Jane, Hilda, Candice or something nice.’

  ‘Pet names and family names are for one’s intimate relations and friends, Detective Sergeant Wain. I am not going to allow you to call me by any of my personal names, nor shall I reveal my true forename. Call me Mrs Plumpton, it is by far the nicest and most suitable.’

  ‘Well, that’s put me straight!’ smiled Wayne.

  ‘It has indeed,’ Pluke was delighted that his mastery of the office routine had not been challenged. ‘Let’s get down to work and tomorrow morning we shall go and interview the person in charge of Crickledale Volunteer Carers. We shall start at the top as we embark upon our hunt for one or more killers in Crickledale.’

  ‘Is the boss a witness or suspect?’ asked Wayne.

  ‘Initially a witness,’ replied Detective Inspector Pluke, adding, ‘Softly, softly, catchy monkey, Wayne and Mrs Plumpton.’

  Chapter 11

  Before going off duty that Tuesday evening, Detective Inspector Pluke rang the secretary of the Crickledale Volunteer Carers at their office in The Cedars, Millbank Road, Crickledale, and arranged a meeting which would include himself and Detective Sergeant Wain. It was agreed the detectives would visit the CVC at 10.30 a.m. on Wednesday morning and Pluke asked that representatives of senior management be present.

  Pluke concealed the true purpose of his visit by explaining he was gathering data as part of a Home Office survey into the role of the police when investigating sudden deaths, especially those that did not result in an inquest or a criminal investigation. The secretary, Mrs Sarah Allanby, said she understood and felt sure the CVC would give as much assistance as possible. After all, she said, the carers dealt with many cases that did not involve the police – the majority of them in fact – but in some cases, the police were necessarily called and such circumstances ranged from something as nasty as sudden and unexplained deaths to more routine matters like old folks locking themselves out of their homes, getting lost or going missing in town. As she chatted, she stressed that the carers worked closely with all the emergency services, local authorities and charitable organisations to make the life for the old people in Crickledale much more pleasant than it might otherwise be.

  She assured Pluke that the Chairman, John C. Furnival would be present and she hoped that, duties permitting, at least one of the full-time professional carers would also attend. She suggested that volunteers were not necessary at this meeting – after all, they took no part in the management of the CVC and did not involve themselves with policy matters. Pluke agreed.

  ‘Good, we look forward to meeting you both,’ Mrs Allanby assured him. ‘And I might add, we are very aware of the help and comfort provided by Mrs Pluke. She is one of our most dependable volunteers.’

  ‘She does a lot of charitable work in Crickledale.’ Pluke was proud of Millicent and her response to a range of social necessities. ‘She understands the needs and desires of elderly citizens which is probably why she is such a good wife to me.’

  ‘Of course, Mr Pluke. You’re a very lucky man.’

  ‘Thank you. Until tomorrow then.’

  Pluke suggested to Mrs Plumpton that during his forthcoming absence from the office, she should continue her research. In particular, he wanted to know as much as possible about each of the deceased, including the time and date of death, how the deceased was found, who found them, whether an ambulance or doctor was called, whether the house had an appearance of being unlawfully entered and a note of any unusual circumstances associated with the death, no matter how minor they might be. He would also li
ke to know of any other salient factors especially the loss or theft of valuable possessions. Mrs Plumpton assured Detective Inspector Pluke that she was fully au fait with the direction of his investigation and knew precisely what was required.

  As Detective Inspector Montague Pluke, still wearing his funeral suit, walked home after work, he was aware that his unusual attire would continue to raise questions among the people of Crickledale. Those Crickledonians who were unaware of Mrs Langneb’s funeral would wonder about his dress and ask themselves what he had been doing that afternoon.

  He knew that many would allow their curiosity to overwhelm their good manners and find an excuse to ask him, but in the present circumstances, he considered that to be a good omen. It was important that people did talk and discuss puzzling things, especially if they involved police officers. He hoped some would ask how the funeral of Mrs Langneb had progressed, and whether he had been representing the police at the funeral service. If he said he was, they would then want to know why he would do such a thing for someone as quiet and unobtrusive as Mrs Langneb.

  And, he knew, sooner or later, someone would be brave enough to ask him, probably after a few beers in one of the pubs, whether Mrs Langneb had been a member of the Special Branch or Security Service. According to many detective novels, little old ladies were often very good detectives, especially in rural areas. Pluke knew that many townspeople would claim it was the first time such a heavy police presence had attended a local funeral – so logically there must have been a very sound reason. In that way, Pluke would persuade the people to chat to him and he would find a means of turning the conversation around to old folks who had died suddenly in odd circumstances or who had had possessions stolen from their homes.