The Fifth Identity. Ray CW Scott

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СКАЧАТЬ cast his eye over the majestic pile and liked it. He could understand why the late John Accrington would have been loath to move away from the premises. He looked around behind him at the tree covered drive that led to the road and it was idyllic. Through the trees to the right of the driveway he could see the back of a small building, and as he craned his neck he could see that it was facing outwards onto a large green area.

      “That’s the local cricket ground,” said Richard as he observed the direction of Ruddock’s curiosity. “That building is the pavilion. The whole of that field used to be part of John’s property. When the local cricket club lost its ground to developers about 15 years ago, John made this field over to them. He sold it to them for a nominal sum, something like £100 which he then donated back to the club. He loved his cricket, he watched them play almost every week from his upstairs balcony.”

      Ruddock handed Richard Bilston a key. Richard unlocked the front door and stood aside for Ruddock to enter.

      “Where do you want to start, Norman?”

      “Guess his study will be the best bet, what do you reckon?”

      “I agree. OK, let’s have a look.”

      They entered the hall and Ruddock pulled up sharply.

      “What are these doing here?”

      Richard leaned over and scratched his head.

      “Search me!” he said. They both walked up the hall and looked at some chairs that were standing at the back end of the hallway. “From my memory of my last visit these should be in the kitchen, they stood around the kitchen table. What on earth are they doing here?”

      “Very odd,” remarked Ruddock. “Where’s his study, is it through here?”

      “Yes,” Richard pushed the door open. “This is a beautiful room for a man to work in, also with a view of his beloved cricket ground. He told me once that he’d work in here and when he saw the cricketers coming out onto the field he’d go upstairs to his balcony.”

      “Desk looks a bit bare,” commented Ruddock. “I’ve seen his desk at your offices, he had many small mementoes scattered around that one.”

      “That desk at the office is a beauty,” commented Richard. “It’s a very old one too, about 1830s vintage. I understand he bought it at an antique sale many years ago.”

      “How come an article like that turned up in a sale?”

      “It came from a country house when the new owners had to sell a lot of the heirlooms to pay death duties.”

      Richard walked up to the desk and looked puzzled.

      “He used to keep many small mementoes on this one as well,” said Richard, looking around him. “Now this I don’t understand, he used to have a small statuette standing on this side of the desk, he bought it from an antique shop near to the office, cost him a few quid, several hundreds I believe. Where the hell is it?”

      They carried out a cursory search of the room but found nothing. One of the filing cabinets had one of its drawers open and some papers and files were stacked on the couch.

      “Why are these out here?’ asked Ruddock.

      “Somebody’s been in here,” commented Richard, picking up some of them and studying them. “These are company files. I’d better take these back with me, will you need to have them all tagged first?”

      “We’d prefer it,” said Ruddock. “But I’m bothered about this.”

      “It looks to me as if someone has been in here.” suggested Richard.

      “If they have they must have broken in, we’ve got all the keys.”

      They went out into the hallway, on impulse they decided to examine the other downstairs rooms first before heading for Accrington’s bedroom, and in the lounge room at the rear they had a second shock.

      “We’ve had unauthorised visitors.” said Richard. “There was a television in that corner. See these indentations in the carpet? You can see where it was standing.”

      “And these French doors aren’t properly secured,” said Ruddock, he reached out and ran his finger down the door jamb. “That sliding door in the French windows isn’t latched … look!” he placed his finger against the door and it slowly slid back.

      “Shit!!” ejaculated Ruddock. “We’d best touch nothing. This is a job for the police.”

      They returned to Accrington’s study, Ruddock took out his mobile telephone and looked around.

      “Hand me that directory, Richard,” he said. “I’ll phone the local police.”

      “No need, the number of the local cop shop is on his Teledex on the desk,” said Richard. He flicked it open at the letter “P” and pushed it across to Ruddock.

      After making the call they retired from the premises and sat in the porch while they awaited the arrival of the police. They expected a fairly long wait but were pleasantly surprised to see, within about fifteen minutes, a squad car pass by the entry to the driveway, travel a short distance up the lane and then do a “U” turn and return and enter through the gate. It came slowly up the drive and parked next to Richard Bilston’s vehicle.

      Two uniformed constables got out and advanced towards them.

      “Sir?’ one of them asked, so Richard stepped forward and introduced himself.

      “My name is Richard Bilston, this is Norman Ruddock from Fell, Pelham & Drysdale, a firm of London solicitors. We have authorisation to enter these premises from the Administrators of the Estate of John Accrington, who used to be the owner of these premises.”

      “What’s the trouble, sir?” said the constable. “I understand you said there’s been a break-in?”

      “Yes, at the rear of the premises there’s a French window that seems to have been left unlocked, we had no trouble in opening it. As soon as we realised something was amiss we left the premises and gave you a call.”

      “Very good, sir,” said the constable. “Is this door open?”

      He indicated the front door.

      “Yes. We entered through it, we have a key.”

      “OK. We’ll have a look. Can you both stay here for the present please.”

      The two policemen entered the house, and they could hear them moving around within. Then they heard one of them climbing the stairs and then moving around on the upper floor. Then they heard the sound of descending footsteps and the constable appeared in the doorway and beckoned to them to come in.

      “All clear, sir,” he said. “You can come in, but don’t touch anything.”

      “I’m afraid we already have,” said Bilston. “We’d already looked at the safe and that desk in the study before we realised that anything was wrong. It was the chairs standing at the rear end of the hallway that alerted us to the fact that something was amiss. I’m afraid our finger prints could be on them.”

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