The Pershore Poisoners (19 page)

‘Go on,’ said Quinton intently.

‘New evidence has recently come to light that proves your innocence in the Pimlico case. It seems that your wife did not write those last words in the diary shortly before her death, in which she accused you of poisoning her.’

‘I see. Then who did?’

‘I am afraid that I am not at liberty to say. Fortunately justice was done at the time and you were rightfully acquitted. It seems that Mr Sefton Rawlinson was defending an innocent man,’ continued Ravenscroft feeling embarrassed and ill at ease as he continued. ‘When I realized that you were really Quinton and not Cherrington, I was sure that you were concealing more than a change of identity from us, and I now accept that I was somewhat over-zealous in my questioning. I now know that my suspicions were unfounded and misguided, and I trust that you will do me the courtesy, sir, in accepting my profound and sincere apologies for any distress we, I mean I, may have caused you.’

‘Well yes, I suppose so,’ replied Quinton somewhat at a loss for words.

‘Then will you give me you hand, sir?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘Of course. No harm done, old boy,’ replied Quinton taking the extended hand and shaking it.

‘I thank you, sir,’ said a relieved Ravenscroft.

‘You know one thing, Ravenscroft? I really did love my wife, you must believe that.’

‘Yes Captain, I believe what you say, but I must not detain you. I believe you have a train to catch to London?’

‘Yes. No hurry now though, I suppose. Might as well stay on for a day or so in Pershore. I am quite fond of the town really. This was where I first met my wife you know.’

‘Yes sir, I know. Then we wish you a good day, Captain Quinton, and please accept our best wishes for the future.’

Ravenscroft and Crabb stepped outside, closing the door behind them.

‘Well, Tom, that’s an end to the case. Let us go and take Miss Fanshaw’s statement, then you and Hoskings can convey her to Worcester.’

‘Fancy there is still a chance of a few days in Weymouth,’ smiled Crabb.

‘Indeed, Tom. Yes indeed. There was a time when I thought that we would never solve this case, but I do not think we should linger under that swinging sign any longer. It looks even more precarious than usual.’

As Ravenscroft and Crabb walked down the path they suddenly collided with a short, stocky, dark-haired man who had just turned the corner.

‘My dear sir. Please accept my apologies,’ said Ravenscroft.

‘Should have looked where you were going’, snapped the new arrival. ‘You just come from Talbots’?’

‘Yes – and you must be Mr Claybourne, if I am not mistaken?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘Yes – and who the devil are you?’ growled the man.

‘Ravenscroft. Inspector Ravenscroft – and this is my colleague, Constable Crabb.’

‘Police. What the deuce has been going on whilst I have been away?’ asked Claybourne.

‘Oh a great deal Mr Claybourne, a great deal, but everything is now resolved. I am sure Mr Talbot will be able to tell you all
about it.’

‘Suppose that will have to do then. Good day to you,’ replied Claybourne abrupty.

‘Good day to you as well, sir.’

Ravenscroft and Crabb watched as the man walked briskly down the front path and in through the front entrance, slamming the door behind him as he did so.

‘So we meet the elusive Mr Claybourne at last,’ said Ravenscroft as he and Crabb turned to go.

Suddenly a large crashing sound rang out behind them.

The two men turned to see that the sign above the doorway of the lodging house had landed on the ground near the front entrance of the building.

Ravenscroft laughed. ‘I would say that was rather a fitting end to everything. Would you not agree, Tom?’

She entered the abbey, somewhat apprehensively, as the rain blew across the grounds of the imposing building, and was grateful to find the building empty, so that she could be alone with her thoughts.

She stood there for some moments admiring the fine window that looked down across the nave.

‘There are no monks here now.’

The unexpected voice startled her, and she let out a cry and dropped her umbrella as she turned round to see who had broken the silence of the church.

‘My dear good lady. Do please forgive me,’ said the stranger bending down and retrieving the umbrella. ‘I should not have spoken out and alarmed you in such a manner.’

‘I did not think there was anyone here,’ she replied attempting to recover her composure.

‘Permit me,’ said the tall bearded stranger handing the umbrella back to its owner, with a smile, before removing his hat and giving a slight bow.

‘Thank you,’ she said turning away.

‘All the monks left hundreds of years ago, I believe. Something to do with Henry VIII. Dissolution of the monasteries, and all that. It was much larger than this in medieval times I understand.’

‘You seem remarkably well informed, sir. You are a resident
of this town?’ she asked, making polite conversation, whilst seeking to leave as soon as possible.

‘Good lord no. Just staying here for a few days on my way up to London. May I be so bold as to ask if you are a visitor to the town?’

‘My aunt and I are staying at the Angel.’

‘A good choice, I believe.’

‘My father has recently died,’ she began not knowing why she should have uttered those words to a complete stranger, and feeling the tears beginning to well up in her eyes.

‘My good lady, I am so sorry. I would not have asked had I known. Please take this,’ said the stranger showing concern as he passed over a large hankerchief.

‘You are most kind, sir. Please forgive me. It is all so recent,’ she replied drying her eyes on the handkerchief.

‘Of course. I sympathize with your plight. My dear wife, whom I worshipped above all others, has also recently passed away,’ said the man turning away.

‘Then you know,’ she began to hand back the handkerchief.

‘Please accept it with my compliments. They say that time is a healer, but I am not quite so sure. What would you say?’ he said looking sadly into her eyes.

‘I suppose we must all have faith.’

‘You are so right, my good lady. Without faith there cannot be hope, and we all need hope if we are ever to obtain happiness.’

She forced a smile, thinking the stranger’s words both eloquent and heartfelt.

‘I believe the rain may have ceased,’ he said. ‘May I escort you back to the Angel?’ smiled the man.

‘That is most kind of you, sir.’

‘In fact there is something which you may be able to assist me with – no, sorry, I have been far too bold.’

‘What is it, sir?’

‘Well, I find myself in something of a difficulty. I have today received a communication from an elderly aunt of mine who wishes me to purchase a box of lace hankerchiefs for her. Now, I must admit that I have very little taste when it comes to choosing lace handkerchiefs for elderly maiden aunts,’ laughed the man. ‘I wonder whether you could assist me in my choice? There is a good shop I believe halfway down the main street. No, I am sorry, I have been too forthright in my request. You must forgive me.’

‘I would be happy to assist you, sir, in your quest.’

‘That is most uncommonally good of you, my dear lady. Perhaps you would care to accompany me there, but I fear I have been somewhat remiss. I should introduce myself. My name is Cherrington. Charles Cherrington,’ smiled the stranger.

‘I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr Cherrington,’ she replied.

‘Then shall we begin, my good lady? The world awaits us.’

The Malvern Murders

The Worcester Whisperers

The Ledbury Lamplighters

The Tewkesbury Tomb

The Droitwich Deceivers