An Unhallowed Grave (28 page)

"So do we tackle them when we get back?"

"What do you think?"

Wesley thought for a moment. "I think I'd like another word with Philip Thewlis. I think he knows more than he's letting on. If we can get more information from him about what actually happened that day ..."

"Go for it, Wcs," Heffernan said encouragingly. "I wouldn't trust him an inch."

Philip Thewlis's expression was one of patient exasperation. He sat, apparently at ease, on the Regency sofa in the low-beamed drawing room. But Wesley could tell that their arrival was as unwelcome as a visit from the taxman; a thing to be resented but politely endured.

After a few innocuous questions. Thewlis looked Wesley in the eye. "Look, Sergeant," he began. "I'm afraid I haven't been quite straight with you about what happened when Tim's brother was killed. The police asked me at the time where I was and I told them I was playing in the woods at the back of the garden with Tim. That was perfectly true but... I'd bought these binoculars. I was an entrepreneur even then, Sergeant." He smiled. "I saved up money I'd earned from various schemes and bought the best binoculars I could afford. I got them from the house and

"You saw something?"

"Yes. I was twelve, you understand. Just starting to get interested in ... you know

"Sex?" asked Heffernan, straight-faced.

"That's right, Inspector. I told the police that I went to get the binoculars. What I didn't mention was that I used those binoculars to spy on the rose garden. Tim's dad was, er ... with Pauline, the young nanny. They were ..."

"I think we've got the picture, sir. I presume you didn't give young Tim a go with these binoculars ... under the circumstances?"

"Of course not. He was only seven."

"So you're telling me that when you and Tim were in the woods when the baby was killed Pauline was with Robert Wills in the rose garden?" Thewlis nodded. "Why didn't you say this at the time? You could have saved a young woman from fifteen years in prison."

"At the time I was embarrassed. I didn't want it to be known I'd spied on them so I kept quiet about it and told myself that Pauline must have killed the baby before ... or afterwards. I thought that if the police had arrested her she must have done it. Perhaps she did, I don't know. Then she turned up here."

"So what really happened on Friday night?"

"It was just as I'd said. She told me that one of our cleaners, Mrs. Matherley, was concerned about the welfare of her granddaughter, our nanny, Gemma. Mrs. Matherley had told her, apparently, that I was having an affair with Gemma. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. I'm a happily married man," he said convincingly. "And even if I weren't, I would hardly conduct a liaison so close to home. But thinking about it I can see why she was so concerned. It obviously bothered Pauline that a young girl might be "taken advantage of", as she put it. I suppose that's what happened to her ... with Robert Wills an employer taking sexual advantage of a young employee. But we're not all like that, I assure you."

"Quite," said Wesley. "Is there anything you forgot to tell me last time I was here ... about when Pauline Quillon came to visit you?"

Heffernan looked at Wesley, impressed by his tact. Thewlis frowned with concentration, as though he was making a decision.

"As a matter of fact there is something, Sergeant. She mentioned that she'd bought the cottage here in Stokeworthy because she'd read in a magazine that I owned the Manor. She said she'd been plucking up courage to come and speak to me ever since I moved in last year. Then she ... then she asked me to tell the truth about the Wills baby's death."

"She knew you'd seen her in the rose garden?"

"How could she? No. It must have been something else."

"What?"

"I've no idea."

"What did you say?"

"That I couldn't help her. That I thought she should go. I had set her mind at rest about Gemma and I couldn't help her about the other matter. That was it." He stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I must get back to work."

They knew when they were being dismissed. But Wesley had one more question to ask. "Just routine, sir, but do you own a navy blue weatherproof coat?"

"Er, yes, Sergeant. I keep one for when I'm on my boat. Why?"

"Do you mind if we have a look at it? Just routine, you understand."

Thewlis gave him an enquiring look but said nothing. He left the room and returned a few minutes later with the coat. He gave it to Wesley.

"What's this on the sleeve, sir? Looks a bit like blood."

Thewlis took the coat and examined the stain. "It's rust. It had been raining and I left it next to an old capstan in Tradmouth when I was loading some provisions aboard my yacht. It stained. You're welcome to take it away and examine it if you like," he added with casual amusement.

"Thank you sir. We'll just take it to check if you don't mind," said Wesley as he took the coat back. "Sorry to have bothered you, sir. Thank you for your time."

Philip Thewlis showed them out. When they were safely away from the house he turned to see his wife waiting in the library doorway.

"If they come again, I'm telling them about him, Philip. I'm sick of all this, I really am."

Thewlis said nothing but marched to his office, slamming the door behind him.

They had parked on the main road outside the grounds. It gave Wesley an excuse to pass the dig. Heffernan could read him like a book.

"Hurry up, Wcs. I want a word with Mr. Wills."

"I won't be long, sir. I'll just see how Neil's getting on ... and we haven't had lunch yet."

"I wondered why I felt so weak," said the inspector, who looked far from starving. "I'll go and order something at the Ring o' Bells and you have a word with your mate. Okay?"

This sounded like a satisfactory arrangement to Wesley. He found Neil watching the geophysics team as they surveyed the outer edge of the clearing, the possible site of the abandoned part of the medieval village. The team of three walked in straight lines, prodding the ground with their machines. Neil turned and his eyes lit up when he saw his friend. "Wcs. I've been trying to get in touch with you. Guess what?"

"What?"

"I've found the case in the court roll translation. June 1475. Remember that baby I told you about... the one mentioned in the account books?" Wesley nodded. He remembered something about it, but not in detail. He had another baby to think about Peter Wills. "Well, it was killed ... by the nursemaid. Come to the hut and I'll show you." He led the way to the hut where the translation lay on the desk he used. He found the correct page and thrust it into Wesley's hands.

Wesley read. "Felicia de Monte did say that Alice de Neston was alone with the son born to my lady. She went to the kitchens and when she did return the babe was dead. She found Alice there by the cradle in great distress, saying she was out of the room and had no knowledge of how the babe did d
ie.
Alice did run from the house and the hue and cry was raised by my lord's steward, my lord and my lady being from home. The maid was found in the house of Thomas de Monte, her promised husband, and brought back to the manor to be close confined until her trial." Wesley read on. Witnesses were brought to testify, mainly people like Christina Tandy, who Alice didn't get on with if some of the court cases over the previous months were anything to judge by ... it was probably a chance for them to settle old scores. Alice de Neston was accused of smothering the child with a bolster found nearby. Alice vehemently denied it, saying she loved the child and would never harm him. It seemed that Felicia de Monte, who was a relation of Thomas, tipped off the constable that Thomas was hiding her. Alice was brought to trial and the full force of medieval law, without benefit of forensic evidence or full police investigation, bore down upon the unfortunate girl. The fact that it was the lord of the manor's son who had died ensured that the punishment was swift and dreadful. She was taken out of the court to the churchyard, hanged from the yew tree by an Adam Derring possibly a former hangman, who at least ensured her a swift departure and buried in unhallowed ground at the crossroads. No searching questions asked ... and no appeal.

Wesley looked up from the book, feeling uncomfortable. "Poor girl," he said. "There's not much evidence against her... and what there is is all circumstantial."

"Thought you'd be interested ... as a policeman."

"I am. It was Thomas who carved that crucifix buried with her, I suppose?"

"Well, they were engaged."

Then something occurred to Wesley. "Who else knows about this case?"

"I've shown this translation to Matt and Jane ... and I've

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mentioned it to Daphne Parsons on the phone. Why?"

"I wasn't thinking of them. Who else in the village ... or at the Manor?"

Neil shrugged. "It took me long enough to find it. I suppose Thewlis could know, or his wife if they actually bothered to read the books in their library or any of their friends or staff who had access to it. Any local historian could know of its existence. That friend of Pam's said that someone was asking for a translation, but there's only one other, in Exeter."

"Charles Stoke-Brown," said Wesley thoughtfully.

"That's right. Why?"

"It's too much of a coincidence. One nursemaid is accused of killing a baby back in the fifteenth century and is hanged from that particular tree ... then another woman accused of killing a baby in her charge dies in the same way on the same tree. Someone's trying to make a point ... someone who knows about Alice de Neston."

"What are you on about, Wcs?"

Wesley turned to go. Gerry Heffernan would be waiting for him in the Ring o' Bells. "Never mind, Neil. I'll explain when I've got the time."

He explained all to Heffernan over lunch, keeping his voice low, as though he suspected that the walls in the Ring o' Bells were equipped with very powerful ears.

The inspector didn't share his misgivings. "So you think whoever hanged her knew about this medieval case? There can't be that many people who go rooting through old books."

"It is an acquired taste, I admit," said Wesley. "But I don't believe in coincidences as dramatic as that. Whoever hanged her up in that tree knew all about Alice de Neston being hanged for the same crime back in 1475. They were making a point."

"Meaning they didn't think she was innocent. That rules out Thewlis, who knew she was."

"And Robert Wills, who knew exactly what she was up to when the baby died but still let her go to prison."

"So that leaves us with Mrs. Wills ... and little Timothy, of course our revered parliamentary candidate."

"And Charles Stoke-Brown, descendant of the de Stokes, who could easily have found out about Alice in the course of all his research."

"What's his motive?"

"I've no idea. Lover's quarrel?"

"He didn't know her real identity."

"That's what he's told us ... doesn't mean it's true. People have been known to lie to us from time to time," Wesley added with a wry smile.

"Well, he seems to have an alibi, courtesy of the landlady at the Wheatsheaf and this mysterious man he met there. But anything's possible, Wcs. I feel as confused about this case now as I did at the start." Heffernan sighed. "Let's pay the Wills family another visit."

They finished their drinks in silence and walked slowly to Worthy Court. There was a car in the courtyard, a large silver Mercedes. It stood gleaming in the thatched quadrangle like an alien spaceship that had found itself on the wrong film set.

'1 see our friend D'estry's back for the weekend. Must have left work early."

A face peeped from D'estry's window: Monica, minus make-up and looking tired after the long journey from London. Wesley raised a hand in greeting and she disappeared behind the curtain. They reached the door of number seven and knocked.

Jane Wills opened the door. She made no comment as she led the way into the living room.

"I suppose you've found out my father-in-law visited Dr. Jenkins?" Jane came straight to the point. "It was a stupid l
ie.
I don't know why he said it really." She spoke with quiet confidence, almost exasperated, like a teacher discussing a child who has just done something spectacularly stupid. She continued. "He told us all about it. He went to the surgery and recognised that nanny. It was a shock for him ... to see her there. Completely unexpected."

"Where was your father-in-law the night Pauline Quillon died?"

"He was here ... like he said. I'm sure he had nothing to do with ... I know him. He's just not capable of something like that."

"And he was here all night?"

"Er ... yes." She sounded unsure. "Well, he might have slipped out. I can't really remember."

To Wesley's surprise, the inspector stood up. "Well, thank you, Mrs. Wills. We'll be in touch."

Heffernan led the way, hurrying outside out of Jane Wills's earshot. "That's it, Wcs," he said with satisfaction. "She's told me all I wanted to know."

Monica Belman got out of the shower and walked, damp and naked, past Julian, who was lying on the king-sized bed. "I saw those two policemen ... that scruffy one and the rather dishy black guy."

"So?" After a hard week on the dealing floor, what Monica had to offer held more interest for Julian than the comings and goings of the local police force. He reached out and touched her bare thigh.

"I think I should tell them what I saw."

"I've told you, it's none of our business. Don't get involved. Anyway, what did you see? Nothing. You hardly saw someone stringing that old bird up, did you? Now come to bed. I need to unwind."

Monica pushed his exploring hands away and slipped her dress on.

"It's one of them, I know it is. I can feel it in my water, Wcs."

"Which one?"

"The father. I want to get him in for questioning. Agreed?"

"There's one thing you're forgetting, sir. He was the one person who knew Pauline Quillon didn't kill his son. He was with her at the time it happened, according to Thewlis."