Moorcroft - the Possession: Book One of the Moorcroft Trilogy (33 page)

“This is good, Tom, it identifies a woman named Charlotte, seems she hated the sister and made threats. She could be our killer. Send someone to our local copper to ask if he knows of any woman called Charlotte who might live here about. Then get in touch with our nearest police station to this address ask them to locate this woman but not to approach her and tell them I’m on my way to talk to her. Got all that?”

Tom nodded. “Yes Sir.”

The young inspector held up the folder with the photographs and the letter. “Have these all been documented?”

A young constable sitting at the table looked up. “Yes, sir, all done.”

“Good, I’m taking these with me.” At the door he turned. “Don’t forget the detective and Tom get this lot moving, we haven’t got all day and we need to find this woman. Before you go home tonight I want this house closed up tight.”

Edward Crawley stood outside the semi-detached house and looked around. It was a good, quiet rural area; the house was grand, not up to the standards of Moorcroft but respectable. He had driven there in his own car, not wanting to cause any undue attention, a police woman stood at his side dressed in a dark suit and blouse. He rang the door bell and waited. Through the glass door he could see someone approaching, a young boy. As the door opened a woman chased down the hall way chastising the boy.

“Ben, what have I told you about opening the door to strangers.”

Edward looked down at the boy. “She’s right you know.”

Sarah nudged her son in the back. “Now go and clean out that rabbit hutch or I’m giving the smelly thing away.” She turned to her visitors. “I’m sorry about that, how can I help you?”

He handed her his warrant card. “I’m Detective Inspector Crawley and this is Constable Reynolds, may we come in?”

Sarah put her hand to her throat. “Oh Dear God, don’t tell me something’s happened to Charles.”

He walked through the door. “No, nothing has happened to your husband, please can we come in.”

She showed them into the lounge and they sat on the settee, while Sarah sat in an armchair. “You are Mrs Sarah Wesley, formerly Sarah Gardener of Moorcroft, near Preston?”

Sarah nodded. “Yes, what’s all this about?”

“I’m sorry to have to inform you that a body was found at Moorcroft early yesterday morning. We believe it is your brother Richard Gardener.”

Sarah stared from one to the other. “Richard’s dead, but how.”

“He was found lying on the drive; it looks like he may have disturbed a burglar.”

Sarah gasped and took a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped the tears from her eyes. “The last time we met, we argued, I said I would never set foot in Moorcroft again, poor Richard.”

“Mrs Wesley, can your husband be contacted?”

“Yes, he should be back soon he’s only gone to the shop for the papers.”

Just then the front door opened and a man’s voice called out. “There’s a strange car parked outside our house.” Charles walked into the lounge and looked at the strangers.

Inspector Crawley stood up and made the introductions and explained the situation, and then he nodded to the young woman at his side. “Perhaps Constable Reynolds could make us all a cup of tea?”

Charles nodded and sat on the arm of the chair and put his arm around Sarah’s shoulders and the young woman left the room. “I’m sorry Mrs Wesley, but we will require a formal identification, would it be possible for you and your husband to visit Preston.”

Sarah looked up at Charles and he answered for her. “Yes, we’ll come up whenever you want us. Do you know who did this?”

The constable entered with drinks on a tray as Edward Crawley took the letter from his folder; it was sealed in an evidence bag. “Mrs Wesley we found this at the house, obviously Mr Gardener intended to post it to you.”

Sarah reached for it.

“I can’t take it out of the bag as its evidence, but you can easily read it.”

Charles read the letter over Sarah’s shoulder, he could feel her tense and he squeezed her arm, she handed it back to the inspector.

“Can you throw any light on this Charlotte woman, we think she may be involved, was she a work colleague as the letter suggests.”

Sarah took a deep breath. “I’m sorry Inspector but I don’t know this woman, she’s definitely is no friend of mine.”

He took a drink from his cup and closely watched the pair, a look passed between them. “Can you think of anyone who would want to harm your brother?”

Sarah shook her head.

He looked at Charles. “And you sir?”

“Richard and I were very good friends before we moved down here, until then I don’t know of anyone who would want to harm him.”

Crawley put his cup on the tray and stood up. “Thank you for your time Mrs Wesley and I’m sorry for your loss.” At the front door he turned to Charles. “We are trying to put the pieces together to find the perpetrators of this crime and we would appreciate any help, no matter how small.”

“How did Richard die?”

Edward Crawley watched his face. “It looks like he was pushed from an upstairs window, he had several injuries, but it was the blow to the head sustained in the fall that killed him.”

Charles took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Poor Richard, Sarah hasn’t spoken to him since her mother’s funeral; you see he blamed Sarah for his fiancés death.”

“Yes, I read up on that, a tragic accident by all accounts. Could there have been another woman involved, a love triangle.”

Charles laughed. “No way, Richard only had eyes for Victoria and Sarah was her best friend she loved her like a sister. Richard never got over her death and Sarah never got over the burden of blame, she vowed she would never go back to Moorcroft, it held too many bad memories.”

Edward nodded and reached out his hand. “Perhaps if you could let me know when you arrive in Preston and I’ll get everything arranged.”

Charles watched as they closed the gate.

In the car Edward Crawley looked back at the house. “There’s something they’re not telling us, but I can’t put my finger on it, did you see her reaction to the letter, she knows this woman alright, so why won’t she talk to us?”

Back in Preston Edward Crawley sat at his desk the evidence laid out before him. They had found no foot prints other than Mary Shaw’s, the back door was locked and bolted from the inside and the front door was also locked and bolted. They had found no forced entry and no windows broken, so how had the intruders got in? Had Richard Gardener known his assailants and let them in himself before locking the door? The house still had expensive items on display, pictures, and jewellery, silver, none had been touched which would rule out burglary. The only fingerprints to be found were those of the deceased and Mary Shaw, so the intruders must have worn gloves. Then there’s the letter from the P.I. which only proves that the deceased and his sister were not on speaking terms. He picked up Richard’s letter. Now this is the key to it all. It all pointed to a lovers tiff gone wrong, the bed slashed to ribbons and then the malicious destruction in the rest of the house. After Richard had gone through the window burglars would have snatched what they could and run. But there was no foot prints, no tyre treads. No, whoever killed Richard Gardener stayed behind to destroy his belongings, it all pointed to a woman scorned, this Charlotte.

He picked up his phone. “Tom, can you bring in any information that has been found on this Charlotte woman.”

Tom walked through the door a frown on his face and handed Crawley a single sheet of paper.

“Is this it?”

“Sorry boss, but no one knows her. Fred Thomson, the village bobby, has asked around, there’s no woman named Charlotte in the vicinity of Moorcroft or that village. He even checked with the local vicar and the only records he had was of a Charlotte Worthington that lived in the house some sixty or seventy years ago.”

Crawley’s head sprung up. “Where is she now, perhaps she had a daughter and named her Charlotte and she’s come back to Moorcroft. Well go on, find out.”

Tom shuffled his feet. “There’s no point, the vicar said she was found dead at Moorcroft, died of natural causes. She never married, and there’s no off spring. We’ve reached a dead end there boss.”

Crawley banged his fist on the desk. “Everything points to this woman.”

Tom looked down at his young boss. “Sir, if it was a lover’s row and this Charlotte woman did it, how did she get out of the house after she pushed him through the window, all the doors were locked from the inside?”

Crawley looked up at his sergeant and frowned. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

At the inquest the medical report showed that Richard Gardener had died from a blow to the head sustained when he hit the ground. After the evidence was given by the Medical Examiner, Mary Shaw and the policemen, the coroner found that Richard Gardener had been unlawfully killed by a person or persons unknown and an open verdict was recorded.

Outside the building Mary and Sarah held each other tight and sobbed, watched very closely by D.I. Edward Crawley.

Charles walked over to him. “What does it mean an open verdict?”

He looked into the anxious face of Charles Wesley. “It means that the case remains open and should any further evidence come to light we can reopen it and investigate further.”

Charles nodded. “So, this Charlotte woman was never found?”

“No, Mr Wesley, she wasn’t, but we will keep on looking, someone is responsible for Richard Gardener’s death and one day we’ll catch them.”

Charles looked at the confident expression on the inspectors face. “Well, I wish you luck with that.”

“Will you and your wife move back to Moorcroft?”

Charles looked startled. “Hell no, Sarah would never enter that house again, in her own words, ‘It can rot for all I care.’ need I say more?”

“Does she not want to sell it?”

“No, she doesn’t want anyone else to live there, as far as she’s concerned Moorcroft doesn’t exist, it can rot.”

After the funeral, in the village pub condolences were passed on to Sarah, many remembering Richard as the gentleman he was and a glass was raised to his memory. Sarah hugged Mary to her and wished her well. Mary cried knowing she would never see her darling Sarah again. She didn’t blame her for not wanting to go back to Moorcroft, but it seemed such a shame that a lovely house like Moorcroft should be left abandoned.

Outside the pub Charles looked at her. “One more look before we leave?” Sarah nodded. As they went through the gates Sarah stopped him. “This is far enough.” She looked at the cold house with its grey walls and it’s boarded up windows, it held no joy for her now. She brushed away her tears. “Well, she got what she wanted, but she won’t hurt anyone else if I can help it. Let’s leave all this behind us; I don’t need this house and all its trappings. Let’s go home Charles to our son and a happy and contented life.”

Upstairs in Moorcroft, Charlotte looked through the cracks in the boards and watched as the car turned round and drove out of the gates. Tears streamed down her face, she was alone again. She turned and walked to the top of the stairs and screamed out. “Frederick, where are you, come to me I need you.” The only sound that came back to her was the gentle tinkle of the chandelier.

####

Charlotte wandered the house, roaming from room to room, but the house held no joy for her now. She missed the company of Richard, the closeness they shared, the affection they had. She hadn’t meant to push him so hard but he had made her angry that night, saying that he would never love her. She pushed a plank of wood from the broken bedroom window and looked down onto the drive, at the very spot Richard had fallen. A tear fell across her cheek remembering how the woman, Victoria, had come to him. How she held out her arms to him and how they had embraced and walked away hand in hand. A tear caressed her cheek. Why did he leave her? Why hadn’t Frederick come for her as Victoria had come for Richard, as John had come for Emily? Why had she been left alone in this house? Did no one love her enough?

From the corner of her eyes she spotted movement, those ruffians from the village were back to torment her, well she would show them. She watched as they neared the house, it was always the same group but today they had a newcomer, who was this? They pushed each other playfully and kicked the gravel on the drive, soon they would be in front of the house and they would pick up larger stones and throw them at the windows, she was thankful that they were boarded up or there would have been nothing left of her beautiful house. Why did they want to vandalise her lovely home?

She watched as the biggest boy pushed the newcomer forward and they all laughed. The boy was coming towards the dining room window, was he actually trying to get into the house, this was a first. She rushed to the top of the stairs and listened. She heard wood splinter and glass break and the shutters being pushed inward. At the foot of the stairs she stared at the small boy cautiously making his way to the large front door. He would never be able to open it, it was far too big, she would have to help him. This was fun. He gripped the old iron ring and pulled, but it didn’t budge. He put his foot against the door jamb and threw all his weight back against it. It opened a crack and Charlotte put her hand through and on his second heave she pulled the door open and the boy fell backwards to the floor. The others rushed in, laughing at the young boy as he scrambled to his feet.

Robert was new in the village and the locals were not too friendly, the boys from his school had said that if he wanted to be in their gang he would have to enter an old house. No problem he thought, until he saw it. As he had walked up the gravel drive on the approach to Moorcroft he shivered with fear. The house stood dark and brooding, it looked well secured, how was he to get in? He looked at the house and spotted a broken board that covered one of the windows and began to kick. Soon the wood splintered and with a good heave he managed to pull enough away for him to squeeze through. He pushed at the shutters and pulled back the curtains. The room was dark and cold and smelt musty and he coughed, he shivered and cautiously made his way to the front door, it looked big and heavy, would he be able to open it to allow the others to enter? With a lot of heaving and pulling he finally opened the door and the boys rushed in. They stood open mouthed looking round the large entrance hall; it was obvious to Robert that they had never ventured beyond the gardens.