‘Really? I’ve heard of those. You think there’s one here?’
‘There is one here, and we’ve found it,’ said John. ‘It’s the largest I’ve ever come across. Just over six metres by two, behind three of the upstairs bedrooms. Very cunningly done, too, with duplicate stained-glass windows.’
‘Oh, you’ve found it?’ said Martin. ‘Well, thanks for telling me.’
‘Martin – we were still up there when DI Holley here knocked at the door.’
‘Nobody in it, though, I presume?’ asked DI Holley.
John looked across at Rob as if to say, Let’s not tell him about the priest hole’s spooky atmosphere. Not just yet, anyway. He’ll probably think we’ve got a screw loose.
Rob looked at Vicky and he could see that she had got the message, too.
‘No, nobody in it,’ he said. ‘But when we went up in the attic, we found that all the prisoners’ suitcases had been opened and the clothes inside them had been tossed around all over the place.’
‘And you’ve no idea who might have done it?’
‘Absolutely no idea at all. Totally baffled. We haven’t seen or heard anybody breaking in, and we can’t understand how they could have got up into the attic or why they should have emptied all those suitcases out. They might have been looking for something, but of course we don’t know what.’
DI Holley said nothing for a few moments, frowning as if he wished that Rob hadn’t told him about the suitcases, because it further complicated the mysteries of Herbert Russell’s murder and why Timmy had disappeared.
At last he said, ‘You didn’t disturb any of the clothing? Good. When forensics come up here I’ll ask them to examine it. And you say that all the suitcases are labelled with the names of Dartmoor inmates?’
‘We assume that’s what they are. They’re all addressed Dartmoor Prison.’
‘Okay then. We’ll make a list of the names and when we visit the prison we’ll see if we can match them. Perhaps that might even give us a lead to whoever it was who assaulted your father. Meanwhile, do you want to show me the attic? And while we’re up there, you might let me take a look at this priest’s hole that you’ve found.’
‘Yes, of course.’
They all stood up. John said, ‘Listen – if you’ve no further need of me, I have one or two errands to run and things to do at home. I can come back later, though. About fiveish? Depending on – you know.’
Rob gave him the thumbs up. He knew that when John came back, he would be bringing with him Ada Grey, the self-styled ‘charmer’.
Martin said, ‘I wouldn’t mind seeing this priest’s hole too. You know – seeing as how I do have an interest in this property, no matter how tenuous.’
Rob was about to tell him not to be so shirty, but he decided against it, not in front of two police officers. He didn’t want DI Holley to suspect that there was any resentment between them about the inheritance of Allhallows Hall. People had been murdered for far less.
*
Martin and DI Holley had much the same reaction to the priest’s hole. They were both deeply impressed by the mechanics that opened up the hidden panel in the dado, and by the way in which the stained-glass windows had been placed to conceal the room’s existence. But neither of them could see that it was any more than an historical curiosity. It was empty, and there was no indication that it had been occupied recently, even if the crucifix lever lifted so easily, as if it had been lubricated not too long ago. DI Holley bent over the window seat and sniffed it and said, ‘WD-40.’ If he picked up the scent of cinnamon and orange, he didn’t mention it.
Four forensics experts turned up two hours later and Rob helped them to climb up into the attic to examine the suitcases and the scattered clothes. They were still up there three hours later, clumping about and taking pictures.
With the help of two more uniformed officers, they removed all the clothing and the suitcases from the attic, carried them downstairs and loaded them into a police van. Then they took fingerprints and DNA swabs from Rob and Martin, as well as Vicky and Katharine, although Katharine made it clear that she thought it was preposterous. ‘Can you seriously see me driving two hundred miles down here to hit my father-in-law over the head with a hammer? I ask you!’
Before the forensic officers left, Grace and Portia returned from searching the moors with the DSR team, and they were able to give their fingerprints and DNA samples too. Portia didn’t mind. She thought it was quite erotic that she should be suspected of being a murderer so that her lover could inherit her father’s sixteenth-century mansion.
16
It was nearly seven o’clock by the time John Kipling arrived at the house with Ada Grey.
Martin had taken Katharine to Taylors restaurant in Tavistock because she had told him that she was becoming increasingly stressed and claustrophobic in Allhallows Hall and needed an evening away to calm herself down. Grace and Portia were snuggled up together on the sofa in the drawing room, watching a film about a domineering male lawyer being prosecuted for sexual harassment. They were murmuring together and kissing occasionally and sharing a bedraggled spliff.
Rob had imagined that Ada Grey would be middle-aged, if not elderly, with her hair fixed up in a fraying grey bun and a shapeless ankle-length dress and about a dozen silver chains and pendants around her neck. He had guessed right about the silver chains and pendants, but that was all. Ada Grey couldn’t have been more than thirty-two or thirty-three years old. She was tall, with glossy black hair that was cut straight across her forehead in a severe
