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Chapter One
Across 9 (5 letters)
Did Ralph rive this waterway?
It was a perfect spring day. The sun was shining in the cloudless blue sky, warming the cool March air. Chief Inspector John Shadow had taken a seat outside the Duke of York, one of his favourite pubs. He had a pint of Theakston’s in his hand, the half-finished Yorkshire Post crossword was on the table in front of him and a waitress was heading towards him with a steak and onion sandwich. It would have been close to his idea of heaven if it wasn’t for the presence of a busker a few feet away from him. King’s Square, like the other city squares in York, was a magnet for street entertainers, with varying degrees of talent. This particular busker had taken up position on the old graveyard, the raised platform was all that remained of the church that had once stood there. He was wearing a dark blue frock coat, an eyepatch, a tricorn hat and a toy parrot attached to his shoulder. He also had an accordion that he was playing very loudly as he belted out a series of sea shanties and folk songs.
“He must be lost. We’re miles from the coast,” muttered Shadow as he tried to concentrate on the next clue.
“Are you enjoying the music?” asked the young waitress as she placed his lunch in front of him. He looked up at her innocent smile. She wasn’t being sarcastic.
“Will he be here long?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Probably. They can stay for a maximum of two hours, and he’s only just started. Enjoy your lunch.”
Shadow sighed as he cut into his sandwich and tried to ignore the noise, but it was impossible. Within a few minutes, a group of excitable schoolchildren on a visit to York’s Chocolate Story had gathered around him and were demanding he play “What shall we do with a drunken sailor?” When they’d gone, he started on “The Wild Rover”, now accompanied by an elderly lady dancing around her shopping trolley. Shadow couldn’t take any more. He finished his last mouthful of sandwich, threw back the remains of his pint, tucked his paper under his arm and stalked away.
As it was such a pleasant afternoon, he decided to take a stroll through Museum Gardens. At least there wouldn’t be any buskers there. There was nothing on his desk that required his attention except for a large document the chief constable had sent to him with the ominous title: “Continuous Improvement Self-Assessment Matrix”. That could definitely be ignored for a few more days. Unusually, Jimmy Chang—his sergeant—hadn’t bothered him all day either. He was meant to be gathering evidence regarding a spate of burglaries that had taken place in and around the city over the past few weeks. It was therefore with some surprise that when Shadow arrived in the gardens, he spotted his sergeant standing outside the Yorkshire Museum.
“What are you doing here?” he asked by way of a greeting.
“Afternoon, Chief. We got called out to a report of vandalism. Tom was covering the front desk and knew I was in the area, so he asked me to attend. Someone has been digging in the old abbey,” explained Jimmy, removing his sunglasses and gesturing to the ruins of St Mary’s Abbey. It had once been one of the largest Benedictine monasteries in the country, but now little remained except the crumbling walls of the nave and some gravestones.
“Any damage?” asked Shadow.
“No, at least nothing the gardeners can’t fix. Four were holes dug near where the altar once stood apparently. The warden thinks it might be metal detectorists. He said there’s a group of them who are always trying to sneak in.”
“How?” asked Shadow. He couldn’t imagine anyone scaling the garden walls, especially not if they were burdened with metal detectors and spades.
Jimmy shrugged. “The warden said he got called out at about seven o’clock last night. Someone living in one of the flats across the road saw a light moving around. It must have been the intruder’s torch. The warden entered by the gates on St Mary’s but when he arrived, whoever it was had gone. How come you’re here? I thought you’d be having lunch.”
“That was the plan until the busking started,” grumbled Shadow.
“Oh dear. Was it the morris dancers?” asked Jimmy sympathetically.
“No, some idiot dressed up like Long John Silver singing sea shanties.”
Jimmy shook his head. “He must be a new one. I haven’t seen him.”
“Think yourself lucky,” he replied rummaging in his pocket for an indigestion tablet and cursing the busker once more for making him rush his lunch. “How did it go at the bank?”
The only thing that seemed to connect the burglaries they were investigating was the fact that all the break-ins had occurred while the homeowners were away on holiday. Jimmy had spent the morning following up on a theory that there could be a link between where the victims had bought their foreign currency. All four of them had used the same bank, albeit different branches.
“Nothing concrete but the cashier who served the first two victims was Dani Piper. It was euros for the old farmer from Sheriff Hutton and US dollars for the couple from the big house outside Strensall.”
Shadow frowned. He knew that name.
“Tyson Piper’s wife?” he asked.
“His sister.”
“Is he out?” asked Shadow. Tyson had been convicted of credit card fraud and sentenced to six years, but he couldn’t quite remember when.
“No and his sister—technically half-sister—doesn’t have a record to be fair, but I thought it was worth noting. Although Dani has never worked in either the Malton or Thirsk branch, so then if she did turn out to be dodgy, it wouldn’t really fit with the other two burglaries.”
“Unless one of her colleagues is involved too,” mused Shadow but, at that moment, Jimmy’s phone began to bleep. Shadow turned away while his sergeant took the call. He wandered over to look at the tulips that were blooming amongst the ruins. In the distance, he could see a team of gardeners working on the area that must have been dug up. A squirrel scampered along the high garden wall and Shadow again wondered how the metal detectorists or whoever it was managed to climb over without anyone noticing. His thoughts were interrupted by Jimmy.
“Report of a burglary out near Whitby, Chief,” he said cheerfully.
“Why are they phoning you? Can’t they deal with it?”
“It sounds like it might be another one for us. Smashed window to gain entry. Cash and electronics taken. The owner is away on holiday and his sister called to report the break-in this morning.”
“A trip to the coast it is then,” replied Shadow, thinking the chief constable’s missive could gather dust a bit longer.
“Excellent!” said Jimmy, sliding his sunglasses—which Shadow suspected were expensive and designer—back on. “We could get fish and chips while we’re there.”
“Maybe,” replied Shadow, but from the grumbling sounds it was making, his stomach didn’t agree.
Shadow chewed several more indigestion tablets, while Jimmy drove like a maniac for thirty minutes and without being asked provided an update to his personal life. Sophie, his wife and one of the pathologists they worked with, had returned to the family farm after her father had suffered a stroke. She was hopeful he would make a full recovery, but she would be away for a few days, which meant their house hunting had been put on hold. His sergeant and Sophie had been unsuccessfully looking for a new place to live since they got married, and it seemed to be becoming an obsession with Jimmy. As he pondered aloud the pros and cons of leasehold and freehold, Shadow merely nodded and gave the occasional grunt as he gripped his seat with one hand and the door with the other.
As it turned out, the burglary wasn’t in Whitby itself, but in Ellerdale, a village on the edge of the moors and about ten minutes from the coast, but then geography had never been Jimmy’s strong point. Ellerdale was a large village, with a collection of shops and pubs arranged around a cobbled market square. A pretty beck flowed around the back of the ancient church that sat next to a row of stone cottages.
The address they had been given, Camelot Cottage, was the last and largest property in this row. They parked in front of the garden gate. There was nothing to show something was amiss except for the presence of a nervous-looking young woman in the uniform of a police community support officer. She was standing on guard outside the front door.
“If this is a crime scene, shouldn’t it be taped off?” asked Shadow, after introducing himself and Jimmy. The PCSO, whose name was Natalie Sharp, turned red.
“Yes, sir. It was. At least, we started to tape it off, but then Reverend Prescott came by and asked us if we wouldn’t mind taking it down again. You see, Ellerdale is in the regional final for England’s Perfect Village. The judges don’t give any warning when they are coming but it could be any day now and the reverend thought it might not be a good look to see police tape everywhere. Sergeant Thornton said it would be okay, as long as I stayed here and didn’t let anyone in until you arrived.” She was beginning to stammer now as she rushed her words. Shadow held up his hand to stop her.
“All right, thank you. What can you tell us about the break-in?” he asked.
Looking relieved, she whipped her electronic notebook out of her pocket at exactly the same time Jimmy produced his and began to read.
“The house belongs to Mr Lance Debenham. His sister, Miss Alice Debenham, reported the break-in at 8.45am this morning.”
“Has Mr Debenham lived here long?” asked Shadow. A slight look of confusion crossed Natalie’s face.
“The Debenhams have always lived in Ellerdale, sir.”
“I see. Does Miss Debenham live here too?” asked Shadow.
“No, sir. Mr Debenham is on holiday. His sister was here to feed his cat, Merlin.”
“Camelot Cottage and Merlin the cat. I take it Mr Debenham is a fan of Arthurian legend?” However, his comment was met with blank stares from his two younger colleagues. “I’ll let you tell Sergeant Chang the rest, while I take a look inside,” he continued.
Shadow left the two devotees of the electronic notepad to discuss the case and instead stepped through the front door, ducking his head beneath the low frame. It was dark and cool inside the cottage. The floor was polished stone, and the walls were painted white. An oak settle and a longcase clock stood at the bottom of the narrow stairs. He made his way from the hall into the sitting room. Cushions from the two sofas had been thrown on the floor, a collection of carefully framed antique maps were now hanging on the wall at strange angles and the contents of the drawers in the polished oak desk had been emptied out. As far as he could tell nothing was smashed or broken.
After retracing his steps he went upstairs. There were three bedrooms and a bathroom. All were in utter disarray. Bedding had been flung on the floor, wardrobe doors and drawers were open, and clothes scattered around. The full laundry basket had been knocked over and its contents gave off a damp, sweaty odour. Even the bathroom cupboard had been ransacked. Shadow paused for a moment to examine the razors and tubes of toothpaste lying in the sink. He would hazard a guess that Mr Debenham lived alone.
He went back downstairs and walked through to the kitchen. Again, cupboards and drawers had been opened but there didn’t appear to be any breakages except for a small pane of glass in one of the leaded windows that overlooked the rear garden. The window was wide open, and it looked like that was how the intruder had gained access. Shadow went over to take a closer look then quickly stepped back as a large fluffy grey cat who had been sitting on the sill behind the curtain sprang down with a hiss. He arched his back and glared at Shadow as he walked by swishing his tail.
“Hey, this must be Merlin,” said Jimmy as he arrived in the kitchen and immediately knelt down to fuss over the now purring puss. “Poor thing! I wonder if the intruder upset him.”
“Any thoughts on the break-in rather than the welfare of the cat?” asked Shadow tetchily. Jimmy stood up and consulted his notebook.
“Well, it’s not exactly like the other ones, Chief. Three of the others had the lock on the back doors forced. Only one had a window broken to gain access, like here. It must have been a tight squeeze,” he added gesturing to the open window. “And another thing—this place has been left in a real mess too. I’ve had a quick look upstairs and all the bedding and mattresses have been pulled off the beds. At the others, it seemed like the burglars were more methodical, like they knew what they were looking for. The four other houses all had loads of high-value tech taken and expensive watches and cash. And the other four were all in fairly remote locations without any near neighbours so nobody could hear anything. Natalie said she had spoken to the neighbours, and nobody heard anything here either. Although, they are both quite elderly, apparently. One wears a hearing aid and they both went to bed at half past nine. The property on the other side of them is a holiday cottage and the family who own it aren’t here at the moment. Really, the only thing that’s similar to the other break-ins is that the owner had gone on holiday when it happened.”
“Is there an alarm?” asked Shadow.
Jimmy shook his head. “No. Actually, the other four didn’t have alarms either. That’s another similarity, I suppose.”
Shadow nodded although, like his sergeant, he wasn’t entirely convinced this crime was linked to the others. Something about it felt different.
“Do we know what’s been taken yet?” he asked.
“Well, we can’t be sure until Mr Debenham returns. He’s been contacted and he’s on his way back home. Apparently, he’s due anytime.”
“That’s quick. Where’s he coming back from?”
“Well, that’s another difference, Chief. The other victims had all gone on holiday abroad, but he was only up north somewhere,” replied Jimmy who was still scrolling through his notes. “Re missing items, again different to the other break-in. Mr Debenham’s sister said that biscuit tin over there always had about thirty or forty quid in it to pay the milkman or the window cleaner and that’s empty now.” He gestured to a small tin that was lying empty on the floor, then turned his attention back to his notes. “There were two bottles of rhubarb gin on the sideboard in the sitting room. Alice Debenham makes it herself and she said they are both missing.”
“Sounds disgusting,” muttered Shadow as Jimmy continued.
“Also, there was a computer on the desk in the sitting room and that’s gone, but the sister described it as pretty ancient.”
“Where is she now?”
“In the garden, Chief. Meditating.”
They found Alice Debenham sitting cross-legged on the grass beneath a cherry tree. Her hands were resting on her knees, her eyes were closed and her long grey hair was held back with two wooden combs. She was dressed in a long denim skirt with a pale pink shirt and an embroidered waistcoat. There were several silver chains with Celtic pendants hanging around her neck and the backs of her hands were adorned with henna swirls. Her face was make-up free and serene. Shadow gave a small cough as they approached, and her eyes sprang open.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Miss Debenham,” he began. “This is Sergeant Chang, and I am Chief Inspector Shadow.”
“And a Scorpio if I’m not mistaken,” she said looking him up and down, before turning her pale blue gaze to Jimmy. “Ah and you are definitely an air sign. Gemini? Libra?”
“Libra. How did you know?”
“You have an aura about you. We all do. Luckily, I’m very sensitive to auras. It’s one of my many gifts. I also read palms.” She reached out and took Jimmy’s hand. “Ah, I see there has been sadness in your life, but the future looks bright. Your heartline is very deep. That means you are in tune with your emotions.” She tapped his wedding ring, “I would expect you to have a long and happy marriage.”
Jimmy looked delighted. “Really? That’s amazing. What else can you see?”
Shadow had to suppress a groan. If it wasn’t for Jimmy’s note-taking ability, he sometimes thought he’d be better working alone. It would certainly be quicker. He cleared his throat.
“I understand you discovered the break-in this morning, Miss Debenham.”
“You fire signs. So impatient,” she replied with a little chuckle as she dropped Jimmy’s hand. “Yes, I arrived here at half past eight. The church clock was striking as I walked up the path.”
“You entered through the front door?”
“That’s right. Lance dropped off a key for me before he left on Friday.”
“Did you see or hear anything unusual when you arrived?”
“No everything looked as it should, but I did have a sense something untoward had happened. There was a definite disturbance in the atmosphere. I only knew something was wrong for sure when I stepped inside and saw all the mess. And before you ask, no I didn’t touch anything. Oh except for giving Merlin a reassuring stroke—and I picked up the petty cash tin and I had to touch the telephone obviously.”
“To call your brother?” asked Shadow.
“Yes, I phoned him first. He’s on his way home but he insisted I call the police and wait for them to arrive, which was rather a nuisance as I had to cancel this morning’s class.”
“Class?” asked Jimmy, who was diligently taking notes again.
“Yes, I hold a class once a week in the village hall. Nature’s Bounty—Herbs and How to Use Them. Today we were going to be making our own tea blends.” She produced a small drawstring muslin bag from her pocket and opened it to reveal what looked like dried twigs and grass. “This is my personal favourite. Vanilla and chamomile along with my secret ingredient.”
Jimmy leant down to take a sniff. “That smells great.”
“And very calming. Perfect for a stressful situation. I would offer to make you both a cup but your rather officious colleague told me a hundred times not to touch anything. Honestly, I remember her as a little girl, playing in the beck. A bit of power goes completely to some people’s heads. I blame the uniform.”
“Are you able to tell us what may have been taken, Miss Debenham?” asked Shadow, keen to get back on track. He had no intention of drinking anything she brewed. He’d stick to Yorkshire tea.
Alice shrugged. “I already told Natalie. Some cash, some booze, a rather ancient computer. Ah! Here’s Lance now. I’m sure he’ll be able to answer all your questions,” she said waving to a tall, thin man who was striding across the lawn with Merlin the cat tucked under his arm. As he approached, Alice walked away in the opposite direction to a small gate at the bottom of the garden.
“Sorry about the break-in Lance,” she called over her shoulder. “They’ve made quite a mess. Hope you get it cleared up,” she added before disappearing from view.
As well as sharing his sister’s tall slim build, Lance Debenham also had the same pale blue eyes as Alice. However, where Alice had a willowy almost ethereal air about her, Lance seemed far more robust. He was dressed in a fleece top with an anorak over it and his Lycra cycling shorts showed off his muscular calves. His face was tanned and his still-blond hair was brushed back. A pair of wire-rimmed spectacles balanced precariously on the end of his long thin nose. It was through these glasses that he squinted at the detective’s ID as Shadow introduced himself and Jimmy.
“Shadow? Excellent name derived from both Middle English and Old English,” declared Lance then switched his attention to Jimmy’s warrant card.
“Chang,” he read. “Oh well, never mind.” He turned to Shadow again. “I’ve only had a quick look inside, but my sister is correct, the place looks like a bomb has hit it. I can’t understand it. This sort of thing never happens in Ellerdale. However, while I’m flattered you are here, I’m rather surprised that a chief inspector is investigating my break-in.”
“We have reason to believe that there could be a connection to some other incidents we have been investigating. I understand you’ve lived in Ellerdale all your life, Mr Debenham.”
“You understand correctly, Chief Inspector. The Debenhams have always lived in Ellerdale. In fact, we were mentioned in the Domesday Book. We owned most of the village then.” When neither Shadow nor Jimmy looked impressed by this information, he continued. “I teach history and geography at a boys prep school in Oxfordshire, but I always return here for the hols.”
“Who looks after Merlin while you’re away?” asked Jimmy.
Lance looked at him with disdain. Shadow thought if he was the casting director for a film set in the Second World War, Mr Debenham would be perfect as a Gestapo officer.
“Merlin comes to school with me. I’m the master in charge of Hereward House. The boys are very fond of him.”
“Do you live here alone, Mr Debenham?” asked Shadow.
“Yes. This used to be my parents’ home. Alice and I grew up here. I inherited it when my father died.”
“And you were away on holiday when the break-in occurred.”
“Yes, I left on Friday morning.”
“Were you going anywhere nice?” asked Jimmy.
“A two-week cycling tour of Northumbria.”
“Really? My wife’s from round there. Great beaches.”
A haughty look appeared on Lance’s face.
“I was going on a pilgrimage to Lindisfarne. I try to go there at least once a year to commemorate the lives of the monks who were so brutally massacred by the heathen Vikings. The timing was intentional as it’s close to the anniversary of the Battle of York in 867 when the brave kings Aella and Osberht led a counter-attack against the army of the Vikings who had occupied the city. Alas, as they breached the city’s defences, they were slain bringing an end to the Anglo-Saxon Kingdom of Northumbria and paving the way for the creation of Jorvik. A sad day, I’m sure you will agree.”
“You got back from Lindisfarne very quickly,” said Shadow, who really didn’t appreciate the distraction of a history lecture.
“I was in Durham when I received the news from Alice. I left here on Friday and cycled to Ripon where I spent the evening. Over the weekend, I was in Bishop Auckland and reached Durham yesterday. I planned to spend two nights there and visit the shrine to the Venerable Bede. After all, it is thanks to him we know so much about our country before it was ransacked by the Danes and their ancestors the Normans. However, it seems I must forgo or at least postpose my annual visit. I caught the train back to Whitby as soon as Alice telephoned me.”
“Did you cycle from the station?” asked Jimmy.
Another supercilious look crossed Lance’s face. “Generally, I cycle everywhere, Sergeant,” he replied. “However, with the shock of hearing my home had been broken into, I forgot to collect my bike. It’s still in the store at the Airbnb I was renting in Durham. It’s most irritating. I took a taxi from the station.”
“Are you able to tell us what has been taken?” asked Shadow as Jimmy continued to note all these details down.
Lance gave a slight shrug. “As I said, I’ve only had a brief look. Natalie told me not to touch anything until your CSI chaps have been in. There was a rather ancient laptop on my desk. That’s gone and some bottles of gin too, but I can’t be sure of anything else. The place has been completely ransacked.”
“Your sister mentioned a quantity of cash was also missing,” said Shadow.
Lance frowned. “Did she? As I said, I haven’t checked thoroughly.” His tone was more irritated than upset.
“Who knew you were going away?” asked Shadow.
Lance gave the two detectives another contemptuous look. Shadow wondered whether he had a particular dislike of police officers or if after years of teaching twelve- and thirteen-year-old boys this had become his default facial expression. Or was it that he simply preferred to be the one asking the questions? Either way, he was finding it increasingly difficult to have any sympathy for the man, burglary or no burglary.
“I discussed my plans with Alice and a couple of friends in the village. I also cancelled my regular milk delivery. However, I’m sure if anyone was watching the house, they would have seen me leave with a large holdall and made their own assumptions. Now if you will both excuse me, I would like to return to Whitby and speak to my insurance brokers. I expect they’ll need a crime number from you. Then I shall have to try to find someone to fix the window before it rains. I also want to take Merlin to the vets for a check-up. This whole business must have been very upsetting for him.”
Shadow didn’t think the fluffy grey cat looked remotely perturbed, but merely nodded as Lance and Merlin disappeared back into the house. Shadow waited until they were out of sight before speaking. “It seems strange he forgot his bike, don’t you think?” he asked. “He’s even wearing cycling gloves.”
Jimmy shook his head. “Not really, Chief. Like he said, he heard he’d been burgled and panicked.”
“He didn’t seem the panicking type,” replied Shadow. “You had better sort out a crime number for him as soon as possible though.” He pointed to the broken window. “Let’s take a closer look over there. Have the local police called CSI or forensics out?”
“Natalie said she was told to wait for us to arrive, so I called out our teams from York—you know in case it is connected to the other burglaries.”
They made their way over to the open kitchen window. Shadow knelt down and carefully inspected the flower bed. The tulips and late-flowering daffodils had been trodden down, but he couldn’t see any footprints, although it had been unusually dry recently. Glinting amongst the blades of grass were a few shards of glass. He was about to mention them to Jimmy when Natalie appeared again looking flustered.
“Sorry to interrupt, sir, but a man’s been found. Or rather a body has been. He’s dead. We’d normally contact Northallerton, but Sergeant Thornton said seeing as you are here.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand it, sir. Nothing ever usually happens here and now a burglary and poor Dr Underhill on the same day.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Mr Debenham was his best friend. Should I tell him before he leaves?”
Shadow felt sure that if Lance was still inside the cottage, he would have heard their discussion, but he shook his head.
“Not until we’ve informed the dead man’s family. Where is the body?”
Natalie looked confused. “At Underhill’s Mill. Like I said, it’s Dr Underhill. Kenelm Underhill.”
She spoke with the expectation that the two detectives would know the name of the dead man, but it meant nothing to Shadow. He looked over to his sergeant. Jimmy had a frown on his face, which quickly turned into a look of recognition.
“Underhills. The people who make the biscuits for dogs and cats. Fawkes loves their salmon-flavoured ones,” he explained referring to his cat.
“That’s right, sir,” agreed Constable Sharp. “Underhills have been milling animal feed for centuries.”
“Where is this mill from here?”
“Just up the road, sir, but…” she hesitated “…but I heard on the radio that the road is blocked. Some sheep have escaped from their field and are loose in the marketplace. You might be quicker walking. If you go through the gate at the bottom of the garden and follow the path down by the beck past the church, you’ll be there in about ten minutes.”
The two detectives did as Natalie suggested and walked through the same small wooden gate at the bottom of the garden that Alice had left by. They stepped on to a narrow path that led through the woods and along the gently flowing beck. It was cool in the shade and there was a strong smell of wild garlic. They passed the back of the church as the path continued to slowly slope downwards and the beck gradually grew a little wider and the current ran a little faster.
“Chief, did you think it was weird that Alice didn’t stick around? You’d think she’d offer to help him clear up,” said Jimmy.
“I’m more concerned with a possible connection between the break-in and this dead body. According to Natalie nothing ever happens here and now Mr Debenham’s house is burgled, and his best friend is dead,” replied Shadow.
After about five minutes, the trees became less dense, and the mill came into view.
It was an imposing stone building about four storeys high. A range of low buildings also made of stone ran to the left and then turned at a right angle, and then turned again to form a courtyard. Attached to the mill on the right-hand side was a large timber-framed house. The stone above the front door was dated 1603. Both buildings were so old and crooked they looked like they were holding each other up. They veered off the path and walked up to the main gateway, passed some stables to where two marked police cars were parked in the courtyard.
Shadow was relieved to see the local police had managed to secure this site. Blue and white tape that ran in front of both the house and the mill. A short, stout uniformed sergeant came bustling towards them, his face flushed and his arms full of protective covers for their shoes and gloves.
“Chief Inspector Shadow? Sergeant Chang? I’m Sergeant Thornton, sir. I’m sorry we don’t have any protective suits. I got the lads from Whitby to bring this stuff over with them,” he explained nodding to the two young constables standing by the second patrol car. “But we haven’t touched anything, except to check he was definitely dead.”
“That’s fine, Sergeant. Where is the body?” asked Shadow, as he covered his shoes and pulled on the gloves.
“Kenelm’s in his study. It looks like whoever did it broke in through the garden door. I’ll take you round there.”
“And who found him?” asked Shadow as they followed Sergeant Thornton back to the path by the beck.
“Glenda Kemp, Kenelm’s housekeeper. She’s in the kitchen but she’s badly shaken up.”
“What can you tell us about the dead man?” asked Shadow as they walked along.
“Let me see now, Chief Inspector,” replied Sergeant Thornton scratching his head, “Kenelm was a few years behind me at school, so he must be around fifty-two now. He’s lived here in the village all his life, except when he went away to school and university. He inherited the mill when his father died. He was a bit of an eccentric, but then his kind often are.”
Shadow nodded, although he wasn’t sure what the sergeant was alluding to. “Is he a medical doctor?”
“No. He’s one of them university-type doctors.”
“What in?” he asked assuming it would be a PhD in agriculture or food production.
“I’m not totally sure, sir, but it’ll be something to do with history. That’s all he’s ever been interested in.”
“Like his friend, Lance Debenham?” asked Jimmy.
“Oh yes, Sergeant Chang. Thick as thieves those two were. They were born only a few days apart. They maybe aren’t quite as close as they once were, but this will be quite a blow to poor Lance. First his house being robbed and now this,” he continued, almost repeating what Natalie had said.
The path led them to a wooden gate similar to the one at Camelot Cottage. This gate was also marked private and had a sign saying Mill House. There was a bolt but no lock. As Sergeant Thornton opened the gate for them, Shadow took a moment to survey the garden. It was large and sweeping and it sloped upwards away from the beck. There were little gravel and stone paths twisting between the large rhododendrons and apple trees past various seating areas carved out of stone and up to the house.
“Is this the only way into the garden from outside the house?” he asked.
“That’s right, sir,” replied Sergeant Thornton. “Follow me. I’ll show you the way.”
They made slow progress behind the huffing and puffing sergeant, but eventually reached the terrace at the back of the house. One area of the pale-yellow flagstones was covered with shards of glass where a pair of French doors had been smashed.
“We reckon that’s how they got in. It’s Kenelm’s study through there. We had a quick check, and it doesn’t look like any other room has been disturbed,” panted their guide as he flopped down on to a metal patio chair. Shadow left him to catch his breath and stepped into the study, wondering why the criminals had felt the need to smash both doors.
Kenelm Underhill lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. There was a small gash on his right temple that had crusted over with dried blood. If Shadow had been guessing, he would have said he was in his late sixties at least. A thin man of average height. He looked to be wearing his pyjamas with a leather tunic over the top and a paisley scarf knotted around his neck. On his feet were a pair of leather slippers. He had shoulder-length grey hair and a straggly grey beard. His skin looked dry and parched. It was hard to believe he and Lance Debenham were the same age.
“Any chance you think he could have fallen?” asked Jimmy.
“It’s possible I suppose, but he would have needed to hit his head on something to cause it to bleed,” replied Shadow. “You’d better get in touch with CSI and forensics. Tell them to come here instead of the cottage. That will have to wait for now.”
“Maybe this was a burglary too, but it went wrong. Mr Underhill disturbed the intruder and he attacked him,” suggested Jimmy as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“Maybe,” sighed Shadow as he surveyed the room. It had wood-panelled walls with a low-beamed ceiling.
A thick red carpet covered the floor and matching heavy velvet curtains hung at windows with leaded light panes like those at Camelot Cottage. Also like the cottage, the walls were covered in framed old maps of the area and architectural drawings. On closer inspection, Shadow saw they were of the inside of various churches and cathedrals. On the oak sideboard was a silver tray holding a couple of glasses but no decanter or bottles of alcohol. A large desk dominated the rest of the room, and it was covered in papers and more maps. Half a dozen glass cabinets, like those found in museums, contained various bits of pottery and metal work. None of the cabinets were damaged but some crockery on a wooden tray had been smashed.
Several framed photographs were also scatted on the floor along with a table lamp and cushions from the two armchairs that stood on either side of the fireplace. Shadow picked up one of the photographs. It showed a group of young people having a picnic out on the moors somewhere. There was a pile of stones behind them. Shadow thought it could be somewhere near Whitby. It looked like it had been taken about thirty years ago. He was fairly certain that the man in the middle was Kenelm and to his left was a young man laughing and holding a bottle of champagne. He didn’t know who the woman wearing a rather fixed grin standing behind them was, but Kenelm definitely had his arm wrapped around a young Alice Debenham. She had barely changed, except her brown, henna streaked hair was now grey.
Shadow sniffed. There was a faint smell he thought he recognised but at that moment, he was distracted by a whimpering sound. He turned around. The door that led into the corridor had a child gate on it and on the other side was a black dog with a white stripe on his face. He was lying down, his soulful eyes peering through the bars of the gate. He let out a whimper when Shadow looked at him.
“Hush, Badger,” chided Sergeant Thornton who had caught his breath and rejoined them.
“Does Dr Underhill have young children?” Shadow would have thought he was too old but you never knew these days. “Or grandchildren?”
“No. The child gate is for Badger. He’s a bit boisterous. According to Glenda, Kenelm had some precious document or other he was working on, and he didn’t want to risk Badger destroying it. He’s got form apparently: two cushions, a slipper and a copy of the Daily Telegraph. Kenelm tried shutting him out, but he made a right mess of the door.” He pointed the deep scratch marks at the base of the solid wood door. “The vet said it was separation anxiety. It was Glenda’s idea to use a child gate. He was calm as long as he could still see his master. Pity he couldn’t get over to protect him last night.”
Jimmy went over to stroke the miserable canine. “If only you could talk eh, boy,” he said softly.
Shadow frowned. “Surely if he was here when the intruder broke in, he’d have barked the house down. Didn’t anyone hear anything? The housekeeper?”
“Oh Glenda doesn’t live in. She’s got a cottage in the village behind the Bull. She said she went home at about seven o’clock last night and normally she would come over in the morning to make Mr Underhill his breakfast, but Tuesdays are her grocery shopping days, so she went to the supermarket in Whitby and had a few errands to run too, dry cleaners and the like,” explained the sergeant.
Shadow nodded thinking he seemed to have collected rather a lot of information from the housekeeper who was supposed to be badly shaken up. He was about to ask to speak with her, but the sergeant was still talking.
“Then Trevor, the security guard, well he knocked off at about ten and went to the pub for a quick pint before last orders but he says it was all quiet on the Western Front. That was a little joke. Not that he meant any disrespect,” he explained to Jimmy who was noting everything down. “Incidentally, Trevor’s in the kitchen with Glenda, if you want to speak to him.”
“That’s great, thanks,” replied Jimmy. “Do you know Trevor’s second name?”
“Yes, it’s Thornton and no relation before you ask. Just a coincidence,” the sergeant said with a chuckle. “There’s quite a few of us around these parts.”
“So Dr Underhill lived here alone?” asked Shadow not wanting to be distracted by details of the sergeant’s family tree.
“No, Mrs Underhill lives here as well but I haven’t seen her yet, I’m afraid.” He paused and frowned. “Come to think of it, it’s a bit odd she didn’t find him, isn’t it? Although, and I’m not one to gossip, but they do say theirs isn’t the happiest of marriages.”
“What about the mill employees?” asked Shadow.
“They would all have left by five thirty yesterday, except for Trevor, and after Kenelm was found all the staff were sent home, but I’ve got a list of their names and addresses from Mr Underhill,” he said removing a folded-up sheet of paper from his pocket and handing it over to Jimmy, who nodded gratefully.
“Mr Underhill?” asked Shadow.
“Oh yes, I should have said, Mr Edmund Underhill. Kenelm’s younger brother. He works here too, but he doesn’t live here.”
At that moment, there was a noise farther down the corridor. Raised voices and heavy footsteps, then a tall thin man wearing a navy pinstriped suit appeared. He had sharp features and his dark hair flopped across his face as he lowered his head to clear the beams.
“What the hell is going on?” he demanded.
“Mr Underhill, we did ask you stay outside, sir,” said Sergeant Thornton.
“Whilst at the same time telling me my brother is dead. Do you expect me to do nothing? Sit, Badger!” he snapped at the dog who had stood up to greet him, then noticing the body on the floor. “Good God! What happened? Was he attacked? Did he fall?”
“Was your brother in the habit of falling over, sir?” asked Shadow. Edmund Underhill turned away from his brother and scowled at him. Shadow realised he was the young man with the champagne in the photo.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked.
“I’m Chief Inspector Shadow and this is Detective Sergeant Chang. We’ll be leading the investigation into your brother’s death. We’re very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. I’m pleased to see they’ve sent someone competent to take charge,” replied Edmund Underhill as Sergeant Thornton turned pink. Edmund gestured to his brother. “Can’t you cover him up? His eyes are still open for God’s sake.”
“I’m sorry, sir. We can’t touch the body until the pathologist and the forensics team have seen him. They’re on their way. Can you tell me when you last saw your brother?”
“It must have been some time yesterday afternoon. Around three, I think. I brought some papers across to him in here. They needed his signature.”
“Did you think it was strange when you didn’t see him this morning? Don’t the two of you work together?”
“Kenelm’s the chairman of Underhill’s Mill but he’s never been exactly hands on, Chief Inspector. I deal with the day-to-day running of the place. He spent most of his time in here working on this nonsense.” He waved dismissively at the documents and maps strewn across the desk and sneered. “Kenelm was obsessed by the Saxons and the Angles or whatever they are called. He was always trying to unearth some bit of history nobody else had discovered. Utter waste of time.”
“Lance Debenham is also interested in the Anglo-Saxons, I believe,” replied Shadow.
Edmund sneered again. “The two of them are as bad as each other. Boring as buggery. They’ve been best friends all their lives. They even set up a Saxon Society. I ask you?”
“When you spoke to your brother yesterday, did he say if he had any plans for the evening? Was he meeting anyone?”
“He didn’t tell me, and I didn’t ask. We had very little interest in each other’s lives. He really was a very dull man.” He stared at the body of his brother for a moment, wearing an expression Shadow couldn’t read, before giving his head a brief shake.
“What about Mrs Underhill?”
Edmund’s eyes narrowed a little. “What about her?”
“Was she here last night?” asked Shadow.
“No. I believe she went out for the evening and this morning she went out for a ride as she does most mornings. She isn’t back yet. She doesn’t know about Kenelm. I tried calling her but the signal around here is terrible. Now, if you don’t need me, I should return to my office.”
With that he spun on his heel and marched back down the corridor.
“They do say grief can affect people in strange ways,” said Sergeant Thornton diplomatically when he was out of earshot.
“Or not at all,” murmured Shadow. “Let’s go to speak to someone you said was upset. The housekeeper. Did you say her name was Kemp?”
“That’s right, sir. Glenda Kemp. She’s in the kitchen.” He paused and frowned at the gate and the still-whimpering dog. “I don’t want Badger barging his way in here and disturbing things. Should we open it or try to climb over?”
“Neither. We’ll go back the way we came,” replied Shadow who wasn’t convinced that their unathletic companion would make it over the waist-high gate.
They retraced their steps through the garden and went round to the front of the house. Sergeant Thornton guided them through the front door and into what felt like a dark, wood-panelled labyrinth of corridors and passageways. Shadow realised they were getting close to the kitchen when he could hear the sound of sobbing.
End of Excerpt