Bury in Haste (21 page)

Stubbs nodded. ‘Jakes told me you wanted to be in on the interview with Cyril Crimmon. We’ve got nothing at all out of Aubrey, and Barney’s not been exactly forthcoming either. Of course we’ve got a pretty good case against them, now we’ve got the bodies, not to mention catching them about to add you to their list of victims. Still, we’re hoping Cyril’s going to spill the beans.’

Cyril Crimmon had never been a big man, but he seemed to have shrunk even more in the few hours since Deepbriar had last seen him. He didn’t look up as the three officers walked in, his gaze fixed on the table top between the fingers of his long hands.

‘What do you know about the death of Anthony Pattridge?’ Inspector Stubbs asked, once the preliminaries were out of the way. Crimmon looked surprised, as if this wasn’t the question he’d expected.

‘Barney didn’t kill him. Nobody did, it was an accident. He was driving too fast and the car skidded, and when it hit the side of the road he was thrown through the windscreen.’

‘How do you know all this? Were you involved in the robbery at Somersons?’

The music teacher shook his head. ‘No. Barney was. He told me what had happened later. He’d had an idea that Aubrey could get rid of the body by putting it in a grave the night before a funeral, burying it so the coffin would go on top, but Aubrey thought that was too risky. He suggested the mausoleum instead. They came to see me, bringing the body with them in the hearse, and asked for the key.’

‘You had the key?’ Jakes asked, surprised.

‘Yes. Rupert Abney-Hughes was a friend of mine. When he was lost at sea his great aunts asked me to wind up his estate. That included taking responsibility for the mausoleum.’ His eyes took on a distant look. ‘At first I wanted nothing to do with Barney’s plan, but then he offered me money. A large sum of money. I found I couldn’t refuse.’

Stubbs nodded, as if this revelation confirmed his suspicions regarding human nature.

‘Sir?’ Deepbriar said tentatively. ‘May I ask a question?’

‘Go ahead.’

‘What did you do with the money, Mr Crimmon?’

The musician gave him a faint smile. ‘I think you know,’ he said. ‘I had the organ repaired. I’d already raised nearly two thousand pounds, but it had been incredibly hard. Getting the rest together would have taken years, I’d have been lucky to live that long. You must admit, it was money well spent.’

Stubbs looked at Deepbriar, who quickly explained.

‘That doesn’t excuse what you did,’ the inspector told Crimmon, ‘ill-gotten gains don’t become legitimate just because you use them for a good cause.’

Crimmon sighed. ‘I know. Although if I’d done nothing more I don’t think I’d judge myself too harshly. I know young Pattridge died when he was on the run from the police, but all I did was help to hide the body. I never thought Barney would be capable of murder.’

‘How did you get involved with the disappearance of Joe Spraggs?’ Stubbs asked.

‘You have to understand how it was with Barney,’ Crimmon said, biting his lower lip. ‘He’d always been demanding, even as a child. And we indulged him, my brother and I. Aubrey was five and I was ten when he was born, inspector. Our father was in a mental institution, after being brain damaged by an injury at work, and our mother was out fifteen hours a day, trying to earn enough to give us a decent schooling. That left me and Aubrey to look after Barney.’

As he wrote all this down, Deepbriar recalled the words Aubrey had shouted at him as he broke Barney Crimmon’s grip on the knife: ‘You leave my little brother alone!’ He must have used that same phrase a hundred times in the school playground.

‘So, in the case of Joe Spraggs?’ Stubbs prompted.

‘Barney asked me and Aubrey to kidnap Joseph Spraggs for him. He told us it was what Sylvester Rudge wanted, and that he was too scared to refuse. Evidently Spraggs had crossed Rudge in some way.’ Crimmon’s voice trembled. ‘I didn’t want to get involved, but Barney said Spraggs would get a beating, that’s all. We just had to lock him up in the mausoleum and he’d do the rest.’

‘But you got the wrong man.’ Jakes said.

Crimmon nodded. ‘I’d seen that name in the school register for five years. Joseph Spraggs. It never occurred to me that he had a relation of the same name. Barney got hold of the stuff to put in his tea, then he went out of town, to give himself an alibi; evidently that’s what Rudge had done, and Barney didn’t want to risk anyone connecting him with Spraggs’s abduction. Nobody was likely to suspect me or Aubrey. Actually it all went very smoothly, but when Barney came back we found we’d made a mistake.’

‘So you decided to let Joe go.’

‘Yes. Barney didn’t want to, but I persuaded Aubrey it was the best thing to do. I insisted. I was sure Joe hadn’t seen us.’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘That was when I made a big mistake. I let Barney keep the key to the mausoleum.’

‘You got hurt that morning,’ Deepbriar put in suddenly. ‘Sorry, sir,’ he added, as Stubbs turned to look at him.

‘No, that’s all right constable.’ Stubbs looked back at Crimmon. ‘Well?’

Crimmon nodded. ‘Young Spraggs kicked my hand. The wound turned septic and I felt quite ill, I couldn’t even go to work. I was glad not to be involved when Barney and Aubrey went after the other Joseph Spraggs, I just decided to put it all out of my mind.’ There were tears in his eyes, and he dashed a hand across his face to wipe them away.

‘I never thought Barney could kill anyone, but when the old tramp disappeared I began to suspect something. In the end I went to see Aubrey. He admitted he’d helped Barney put two more bodies in the same sarcophagus.’

‘Do you know why they took off the tramp’s coats?’ Jakes asked.

‘Evidently Barney panicked,’ Crimmon said, ‘and he had some idea of burning the clothes and burying the body. By the time he’d calmed down and fetched Aubrey to help him it was nearly dawn. Aubrey took charge, and Barney didn’t tell him about the coats until they were up at the mausoleum. They decided they’d be safe enough where they were.’

‘So Aubrey had no problem with the fact that his young brother had committed murder,’ Stubbs said.

Crimmon shook his head miserably. ‘I suppose he deals with death all the time, he didn’t seem to think he’d done anything wrong.’

Stubbs nodded. ‘And like you, he’d become accustomed to doing what Barney said.’

‘Yes,’ Crimmon said eagerly. ‘That’s it exactly. Barney was really quite a good little boy, you know. Mischievous perhaps, but always so cheerful. We couldn’t help ourselves, it was easy to spoil him.’

And turn him into a murderer, Deepbriar thought bleakly.

Harry Bartle, a gleaming white bandage round his head, came out from behind the bar of the Speckled Goose and put the brimming pint pot down in front of Thorny Deepbriar. ‘On me,’ he said, ‘and as many more as you want.’

‘One will be fine,’ Deepbriar said, taking a mouthful and savouring the taste, ‘Mrs Deepbriar’s keeping my supper warm. Really,’ he added, reaching into his pocket, ‘I just came to show you this.’ He took out an official letter. There were holes in the four corners, where it had been pinned to a notice board. ‘I need to take it back with me, but I thought you’d want to see it for yourself.’

He leant back and enjoyed his drink, surreptitiously watching the younger man’s face as he took in the printed words. Puzzlement turned to incredulity, then to joy. After that an odd expression Deepbriar couldn’t place flickered across Harry’s features.

‘What’s up?’ Deepbriar asked. ‘I thought you’d be pleased. Only a couple of months and you can apply to join the force. Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind!’

‘Not exactly. Only I didn’t do too well, did I? My first attempt at solving a crime nearly got both of us killed.’

‘That’s amateurs for you,’ Deepbriar said, grinning. ‘Once you’re a professional like me, you’ll never find yourself in that sort of situation. I mean, what kind of fool tries to take on three men, one of them armed with a knife, and another nearly twice his weight?’

Harry’s face cleared and he laughed. ‘As long as I’ve got you looking out for me I’ll be all right anyway.’

Deepbriar nodded solemnly. ‘And one piece of advice,’ he said. ‘Get yourself a good wife. But for Mrs Deepbriar I don’t reckon either of us would be here right now.’

A few minutes later he let himself into the house, to be greeted with a wonderful aroma of beef and onions. Mary came to meet him. ‘Thorny,’ she whispered, ‘before we eat there’s somebody waiting to see you. I put her in the office, she didn’t seem to want to come into the parlour. It’s Bella.’

With a sigh Deepbriar re-buttoned his tunic, in too good a mood to mind much. Mrs Emerson sat in the visitor’s chair, her fingers shredding a little wisp of handkerchief. She jolted to her feet as he came in. ‘Thorny, oh dear. I thought I’d got it all ready in my head, but now I’m not so sure …’

He sat her down and made soothing noises, then he took the seat opposite and waited. ‘I have to make a confession,’ Bella Emerson said. ‘Mary has been such a good friend, and you too. I can’t go on deceiving you.’

‘Would this be something to do with Mr Emerson?’ Deepbriar hazarded.

‘There!’ She pouted. ‘I might have guessed you suspected something, you policemen are so very clever. Yes. There’s a reason why I never speak about the way Edgar died. He didn’t really die in Peru. He never went further afield than Liverpool in his whole life.’ She flushed. ‘Oh dear, I knew this would be difficult. The fact is, he’s still alive.’

‘Alive?’ Of all things, this wasn’t what Deepbriar had expected.

‘Yes. He left me. It was very sudden. He just walked out, and sent a letter a few days later saying I was to arrange the sale of the house. I was quite devastated, I loved living at the Manor, and I never guessed he wasn’t happy.’

‘Men often go a bit crazy when they reach a certain age,’ Deepbriar offered, feeling a twinge of pity. ‘If he met a younger woman—’

‘Oh no, there was no other woman. He’s living alone in Broadstairs. Well, not quite alone, I understand he has a dog.’ She shuddered. ‘Horrid dirty animals, I would never allow one in my house.’ She stood up. ‘Well, now you know my secret. I’d be grateful if you’d tell Mary for me. Of course I know I should come clean, as they say, and tell the rest of the village, but I’d rather not.’

‘Well …’ Deepbriar began, but she gave him no time to finish.

‘I’m at your mercy.’ she said, smiling tremulously. Like a heroine of the revolution off to face the guillotine, she swept from the room.

Deepbriar swallowed the last mouthful of stew, placed his knife and fork neatly together and sat back. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘I think you’re the best cook in the whole county.’

‘Either that knock on the head is still having an effect on you, or you want something,’ Mary Deepbriar said complacently.

‘Neither,’ he replied. ‘It’s a sorry state of affairs if a man can’t compliment his wife. You didn’t ask what Mrs Emerson wanted.’

‘I thought it might be police business, she was being a bit mysterious.’ She stacked the two plates.

‘She had a guilty secret,’ Deepbriar said, ‘but I’m supposed to tell you all about it.’

‘Maybe I already know,’ his wife said, as she went through into the kitchen.

Deepbriar picked up the empty dish and followed. ‘Know what?’

‘That she isn’t a widow. Her husband left her. I don’t know how she came to make up that silly story about him dying in Peru, the wretch is living in Broadstairs.’

‘How did you know that?’

She turned from the cooker, lifting out the apple crumble. ‘We women have our sources,’ she said with a smile. ‘I’ve known ever since Bella moved into the village. Oh, by the way, we’ve decided on our next production. It’s not Puccini after all.’

‘No?’ Deepbriar’s heart leapt. ‘Please, tell me you’re doing Gilbert and Sullivan.’ Add that to Bella Emerson’s shame over the disclosure about Edgar and surely she’d move out of Minecliff.

Mary shook her head. ‘
Carmen
,’ she said.

Deepbriar barely suppressed a groan. Another murder. Poor Bizet.