A Full Churchyard (28 page)

‘And you don't want that to happen? Is that right?'

‘Aye, it is right, Mr Pluke. I don't mind my stuff being valued at home but not taken away. Mebbe you can stop 'em? I tried but they don't listen.'

‘That's why we're here, Mr Knowles.'

‘By gum, that's a relief. Now if you'll excuse me, I must go to the bathroom, things happen suddenly when you get old, and when you've got to go, you've got to go as fast as you can. And happily, t'toilet isn't upstairs.'

And as the old man struggled to rise from his armchair, Wayne stepped forward to give him a helping hand. Pluke smiled. ‘I'll wait here till you get back,' he told Mr Knowles.

As Wayne helped the frail Joe Knowles to stagger along the passage to the toilet near the kitchen, he knew Pluke would already be installing his secret devices.

It meant Mr Knowles could never reveal them or their locations. He would have no idea they were concealed or where they were hidden. When Mr Knowles' deed was done, he was helped back to his chair by Wayne as Pluke stood and waited in the passage.

‘Can I go upstairs to look at your treasures?' he asked.

‘Help yourself, Mr Pluke. Wayne will be along when he gets me back into my chair,' and so Pluke went upstairs to plant more of his sophisticated surveillance equipment.

After ensuring that Mr Knowles had returned safely and was securely seated in his favourite armchair to await the arrival of his carer, Pluke and Wayne concealed themselves in the darkness of the front room. Pluke had a receiver on his jacket lapel and soon they heard Mr Knowles gently snoring in his room with the sound of the television in the background.

And so began the siege of No. 17 Hauxwell Street, Crickledale.

Chapter 19

T
hey sat in
the darkness of the front room with Mr Knowles gently snoring into Pluke's listening device and with the curtains closed against the intrusion of the street lights. The two detectives consumed ready-meals that Wayne had warmed in the kitchen. Pluke had already been in radio contact with the officers concealed outside the house to announce that everyone was prepared.

‘She won't be here until eight,' Pluke told Wayne. ‘So we can make ourselves at home for a while.'

‘I still don't know how you can be sure of that,' commented Wayne.

‘I've got a copy of the CVC duty rota from the secretary,' Pluke pulled a large sheet from his pocket and opened it on a side table. Then he produced a pencil-torch from one of his many jacket pockets and shone it on the paper. ‘Here we are. Mr Joseph Knowles, 17 Hauxwell Street – he's been allocated a carer from 8 p.m. until 8.45 p.m. today, Wednesday. She's one of the professionals – Juliet Jarvis – a good timekeeper by all accounts. It means we can expect her on time, Wayne.'

‘I'll recognize her from our meeting.'

‘You will. In age, she is the senior of the two professionals and according to Mrs Allanby, she was thought to have more suitable experience than her colleague, Mrs Frankland. Mrs Jarvis, you will be surprised to know, has nursing experience whilst Mrs Frankland's was in commerce. Both have many admin duties to fulfil, in addition to the practical care they provide, and both do a good job, Wayne.'

‘I thought Juliet Jarvis was asked to leave her previous employment, a department store? Stuff and cash kept disappearing if my memory is correct.'

‘She left under a cloud and got a job as a trainee nurse – I'm not saying she stole from patients because the carers were prepared to give her another chance. There was no proof she was responsible for any of the allegations thrown at her, although both the store and the hospital dispensed with her services.'

‘It's quite possible Jarvis was guilty all along. The trouble with light-fingered people is that they never stop – even when it's widely known they're pilfering. They just keep on stealing. . . .'

‘It's that knowledge of human frailty that helps us detect crimes, Wayne.'

‘So if Mrs Jarvis has a past, she's clearly never learned her lesson if she's going to try and steal Mr Knowles' valuables.'

‘Well, Wayne, she might be cleverer than we think. There's no guarantee she will get involved even if she is the prime mover. She might get someone else to do her dirty work.'

‘You've reason to suspect her?'

‘I remembered she was on duty most Wednesdays and she also takes part regularly in the “Thursday Special” as it's called.'

‘You mean Furnival will be left holding the baby, as it were?'

‘No, not Furnival. He won't be here, Wayne.'

‘But I thought he was the villain behind all this . . . you said that no-one knows his past, his job application was full of errors, his references were all fakes, he's vanished from the scene today, no-one knows where he is. On top of that, he collects small antiques. He's a fireman too, so he says, able to lift people with the famous fireman's lift . . . he must be the favourite as a suspect. . . .'

‘He'll have to answer to the authorities, Wayne, his CV is riddled with false information so it is a matter for his employers.'

‘Surely he'll be sacked?'

‘Once more, Wayne, that's a matter for his employers. I have learned from a colleague in Norfolk he was in fact a fireman but with a large commercial warehouse in that area, not working for a local authority. He dressed up his application just a little . . . but that doesn't make him a thief and a killer. It does show how easy it is to jump to conclusions. . . .'

‘But Mr Knowles said his carer is bringing a man, another carer, to collect his antiques, ostensibly for valuation.'

‘That's right, but she hasn't named him. It's not Furnival.'

‘Well, there aren't many men working for CVC, that narrows it down somewhat. But what sort of errors did Furnival's job application contain? I can't understand how such things get past those who make the appointments. You'd think the recruitment officials would check references and factual statements. . . .'

‘It seems that the higher up the professional ladder one climbs, Wayne, the fewer checks are made. Those responsible for selecting senior members of staff tend to accept the word of top professionals, even though some are outright crooks and confidence tricksters.'

‘So can I ask what errors were contained in his job application for Crickledale Volunteer Carers?'

‘Well, for a start, his references were all false. Earlier today, I checked them with the organizations which are purported to have written them, and all are false. Email is a wonderful invention, Wayne; I scanned his copies which meant I could check them individually. He said he had been a senior fire officer, but there is no record of him serving in any British branch of the Fire Service, and he said he had taken compulsory retirement at reaching fifty years of age. The general retirement age for senior fire officers is either 55 or 60 but that is not compulsory. He said he was a Senior Divisional Officer in Leeds City Fire Service but at the time, there was no such fire service – Leeds was part of the West Yorkshire County Fire Service. In fact, I doubt if John C. Furnival is his real name. He might have a very unsavoury past if we dug that far into it, and if we sought to prove the falsity of his application, he could be charged with the criminal offences of dishonestly obtaining a pecuniary advantage. The snag is, he has done a wonderful job with Crickledale Volunteer Carers, moulding them into an effective and trusted unit, even if some of their members have a history of dishonesty or untrustworthiness. So is he a man with a troubled past who is honestly trying to reform himself into a good citizen? Or is he a downright rogue?'

‘He sounds to be a thorough rogue, sir.'

‘To be honest, Wayne, I'm not sure. He might be trying desperately to reform himself. It has been known for that to happen in rare cases. Like most other people I've spoken to, Millicent speaks highly of him and his work. It is very clear that, whatever his past, he is doing a very good job here in Crickledale. But if Mrs Jarvis' accessory is a male person on the staff of Crickledale Volunteers Carers, it narrows it down a lot if Furnival can be eliminated.'

‘Parkinson or Dorsey then?'

‘Didn't Joe tell you she was bringing the man off the telly tonight?'

‘Parky! Parkinson . . . good grief . . . Parky, a name made famous on television. . . .'

‘Right. Now one reason I thought Furnival was our man was because of his strength and professional skills as a fireman. Those earlier old folks had been manhandled out of their beds and placed on the floor, perhaps by using the fireman's lift – and kept there despite their undoubted struggles. That would need two people, I reckon, strong people. Parkinson is strong, he's a stonemason, accustomed to lifting heavy items. And Mrs Jarvis is a former nurse so she will be accustomed to moving patients around.'

‘So what led you to him, sir?'

‘He lives with Mrs Jarvis.'

‘So how did you discover that?'

‘They share the same telephone number for call-outs. They're shown on that list of volunteers and staff. And on top of that, after my research in the library and some of my own knowledge, I think they've been using the infamous Black Pillow as an extra means of killing people, it's more reliable that a cold stone floor!'

‘I've never heard of that? What is it?'

‘It was used until the beginning of the last century in parts of rural England, Wayne, to help dying people to pass away more quickly and without pain. It was a small pillow, half the size of a conventional one, and full of very soft feathers. When a person was dying in clear pain and having a tough time in those final moments, the black pillow was placed over their face and held there gently until breathing had ceased. Doctors of the time knew about such tricks but their medical knowledge couldn't identify the fact that such a pillow had been used. If it was used gently even today, I don't think a GP would notice the deceased had been smothered and I question whether a pathologist would recognize any symptoms in the deceased's lungs. It is possible to identify a powerful smothering or strangulation, but a soft pillow held over the face gently in those final moments is a different matter. I doubt if suffocation by that method would be detected by an ordinary GP – but it would prevent the victims getting back to their feet and walking off the cold floor!'

‘Have you any proof of all this, sir?'

‘Not yet, but tonight I hope to obtain sufficient evidence to justify a charge of attempted murder at the very least. And I also believe the open doors and windows, and the covered mirrors were a decoy tactic – to throw us off the scent. To make it look like an ancient mercy killing when in fact it was cold-blooded murder committed for greed. Tonight we shall see whether I was right.'

‘So you're sure this pair of villains is coming to kill Mr Knowles tonight and steal his property?'

‘The indications are all there, Wayne. They will steal the valuables by telling a feasible tale to a gullible old man, and then ease him into death, which can't be far off anyway, so that he cannot inform the police or anyone else that his valuables have gone. Could it be simpler, especially when the professionals state the death was from natural causes? The perfect murder, Wayne?'

‘No murder is perfect, sir.'

‘In the past and well into modern times, people have helped their loved ones to die and this raises the question I asked when we began this cold-case review. Are these deaths the result of malice or kindness?'

‘In this case, it's malice, sir, beyond all doubt. They're doing it to cover up their crimes.'

‘I believe so too. Tonight, therefore, God willing, we shall arrest them for attempted murder. That can happen only if we can catch them in the act. We can't arrest them for attempted murder just for thinking about it.
In
tent is not
at
tempt.'

‘So if we are to secure a conviction in court, we must let them get very close to killing poor old Joe. In other words, they must make their attempt – and we must stop them before it's too late. It's a fine line.'

‘With such an old man involved, that could be a tall order. There are considerable risks, Wayne.'

And at that point, from their hiding places they heard a vehicle ease to a halt outside the front door. Its lights lit up the room momentarily and then they were dowsed. A car door slammed and they could hear footsteps approaching the house. One set of footsteps. There was no sound of the car door being locked. Then the front door opened and was closed, followed by more footsteps across the hall into the dining room that Joe was using as his bedroom. It was precisely eight o'clock.

‘Hello Joe,' the female voice was caught clearly on Pluke's recording system. ‘Asleep again, eh? Come along, time for a cup of tea and a wash before you go to bed. Get your 'jamas on, I'll heat your supper. It's fish pie, you like fish pie, don't you. . . ?'

The voice faded as the woman left Joe's room and made for the kitchen where they heard the light being switched on and noises of cutlery and kitchen utensils being utilized and a kettle being filled from the tap. Then they heard the distinctive sound of the back door being unlocked. It was followed by Joe's television set being switched on – which pleased Pluke. Its noise would cover any sounds made by the police team.

Then Pluke activated his concealed radio. ‘Pluke to all units, Pluke to all units. Suspect One is in the house, preparing a meal for Joe. Her vehicle is parked outside the front door. I need one constable to attend the vehicle at the front . . . and disable it, then stand guard in the shadows. She has unlocked the rear door which is near the kitchen to prepare for the arrival of the second suspect, he will surely come whilst she is in attendance, it will be his cover. He will not be regarded as a suspect by the neighbours if a carer is attending . . . allow him entry without seeing you. Joe's TV is switched on, it's a talk show so don't be misled by voices. I'll alert you when I need you all to come into the house but it is essential to prevent any escapes. Acknowledge. Over.'