When Darkness Falls
Chapter 10
Foyle hmm'd and groaned as he once again studied the ledger. They'd been driving for over half an hour, winding their way towards Ninfield and Foyle had spent most of that time studying Carseldine's words.
"A fifth…." he pondered out loud. "A fifth of a total, but….why does he mention being watched?"
"Mmmm" Milner added with a shake of the head, "Sorry Sir. I'm still none the wiser."
5th MY BIDS WATCHED
5th MAKE TO BLUFF
10th WITH BOTTLES THEY PLACE BETS
10th IN GAMBLING HOUSES CRIB
10th FIRST FALSE ONE OF ACES FIT
"Excuse me, Sir" Browne interupted.
"Yes, Constable" Foyle grumbled, letting the hand holding the ledger drop into his lap in a show of frustration. "What is it?"
"I heard you say that something is to be divided into fifths, that one fifth is to be given out."
"That's right" Foyle told him, his speech precise, his voice clipped.
"Well, ...why don't you just take out a fifth, Sir?"
"Constable," Foyle said, closing his eyes, "unless you have something even approximating an intelligent comment….
"Take out every fifth letter, Sir!" the young man blurted, then recoiled, simultaneously surprised at his own daring, and frightened of the likely rebuke.
"Oh!" Foyle gasped, turning an open stare to Browne, and Milner quickly fished around in his pocket for a pencil.
"Here, Sir. This might help." Milner handed the pencil to his boss's open palm and leaned keenly up against the seat.
"One fifth," Foyle read, then circled two letters from the code. "It just gives a D and a C."
"Perhaps if we continue, it will become clearer" Milner suggested.
"One fifth….a T and an F." Foyle tapped the end of the pencil against his chin.
"Are they someone's initials?" Browne asked, his eyes fixed on the road.
"Doris Carseldine!" Milner suddenly exclaimed, taking the Constable's suggestion. "And Trevor Flaxton."
"Right,.." Foyle continued, using the tip of the pencil to count the next group of letters. One tenth to EB and one tenth to GB."
"Everett and Gladys Boswick" Milner chimed. "The Colonel and his wife."
"And the last one is one tenth to …..EF"
"E, F" Milner parroted. "No, I'm sorry, Sir. That one has me stumped."
"Mmmm" Foyle grumbled.
After a little while, Foyle turned to his still jittery driver. "You've had some good ideas of late, Browne" he said.
"Have I, Sir?" Browne asked, his shoulders slipping back.
"Absolutely…..got any more?"
"I think I've used up all of my good ideas for now, Sir" the boy admitted, pulling up one side of his mouth. "But if I have any more, I'll let you know."
Milner chuckled and put his hand on the boy's shoulder.
This time, as they walked up the path towards Doris Carseldine's little house, there were three of them.
"You leave the talking to us" Foyle said sternly to the beaming young policeman.
"Yes, Sir" Browne replied, proudly fixing the chin strap on his almost brand new helmet.
"And do exactly what I ask."
"Without question, Sir."
Milner reached out and grasped the brass knocker, giving it three firm taps.
"Maybe nobody's home, Mr Milner" Browne observed loudly.
Foyle glared at the boy but resisted the temptation to send him back to the car with his tail between his legs.
"Sorry, Sir" Browne mumbled, his voice lowered.
The person who opened the door was not Doris Carseldine but her son, Teddy.
"Yes?" he moaned. His voice was weak and his skin was pale. Despite the youthful vigour of just a few hours ago, he was now finding it hard to simply stand – the door frame was bearing most of his weight.
"Teddy" Foyle said, giving the lad a concerned look. "Not….feeling well?"
"Nah" the lad replied, stumbling against the frame. "Feeling a bit crook."
Foyle reached out a hand and caught the boy's upper arm as he began to fall.
"Let's get you sitting down, hmm?"
Milner and Browne followed as Foyle led the boy to a chair in the front room. Constable Browne stepped over to the simple kitchen and filled a glass with water.
"That's a pretty nasty cut on your leg, Teddy" Milner said, taking the glass from Browne and sliding it towards the lad.
Foyle glanced down and saw a raw and angry looking gash on the lad's shin, the skin around the wound shiny and sporting a distinctly purple hue.
"Is that new, Teddy?" Foyle asked, sitting down next to the boy.
Teddy nodded and took a sip from the glass.
"I scratched it last night when I went down to the pub for Mum. I had to take the lantern. It was so dark."
"The Royal Oak, Teddy?" Milner asked, a hand on the boy's arm. "There's nothing left of it."
"I know" he moaned, obviously having difficulty holding up his head. "Mum sent me down to search for Roger's money."
"Money? What money?"
"The money that we owe all of these people" Teddy explained. "Roger promised so much money to people but …. when we found his tin, there was only about two shillings in it."
"And that's not enough?" Milner asked
"Not by half, Sir."
"Where's your mother, Teddy?" Foyle asked, a hand on the lad's shoulder to keep his attention. The boy's eyes were beginning to close
"She's gone to look for more money… mmm the ruins."
Foyle rose and wet a small towel under the tap in the kitchen. As he squeezed it out, he leaned over to speak to Browne.
"Constable, we're going to need you to drive this lad to the hospital back in Hastings. He's very ill. You think you could manage that?"
"Yes, Sir" Browne replied and gave Foyle a quick salute. "You can count on me, Sir"
Having sent Browne off in the car with young Teddy Flaxton, Milner and Foyle made their way on foot to what was left of the Royal Oak. Although it wasn't far, just under a mile as the crow flies, the going was tough. Steep hills and uneven ground made for a very unpleasant journey, more so than Foyle had predicted.
Rounding the corner on a walking path, the long straw coloured grass trampled flat from use, Milner suddenly tripped over a protruding tree root and came down heavily on his prosthetic.
"Oooomph" he groaned and slapped a hand on his knee. He hopped, rather ungainly so, towards the tree and leaned up against it.
"How can I help?" Foyle asked calmly, placing a hand on Milner's shoulder and waiting for the younger man to open his eyes.
"It's alright, Sir" Milner replied, apologetically. Cursing, he pointed to the top of the tree root. "I just didn't see it."
"If it helps, I didn't see it either."
"Yes, but you didn't trip and stumble like a bumbling child" Milner grumbled, forming a fist and pumping it against the tree beside his hip.
"And neither did you." Foyle slowly and quietly responded, ignoring his sergeant's unusual outburst. He'd never seen Milner like this before. Perhaps he shouldn't have sent the car away and assumed, selfishly, that his sergeant would just cope. A fiercely proud man, Milner would never have admitted, or even acknowledged, that such a task was beyond him but if Foyle were to say anything now would only embarrass and belittle the man he greatly respected.
"We can either wait here a while.." Foyle proposed, stepping up to stand beside his sergeant, "...or we can get going. It's just over that rise." Foyle casually pointed to the crest about 100 yards ahead of them. "Up to you." After a moment of silence, he added. "Browne's meeting us with the car at the pub."
Pushing himself up off the tree, Milner drew in a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Sir" he said.
"What for?"
"For my childish outburst. I haven't had one of those …. in a while." Milner's cheeks glowed but Foyle pretended not to notice.
"Not at all." Foyle took a step to the side, letting his sergeant compose himself without an audience.
"Let's keep going, Sir" he said, a determined tone in his voice. "It's not far."
"Sure?" Foyle asked, trying not to notice Milner's uneven stance, the way he barely put any pressure on his left leg. If they'd have had the car with them, he'd have gone and fetched the walking cane they kept tucked under the front seat but as they were virtually stranded, he couldn't. It made more sense to press on.
"Yes, Sir."
Foyle nodded, accepting Milner's decision. He did, however, make sure that his own feet were the only ones that took on the long and tangled grass to the left of the trail.
Soon they arrived, both breathing heavily despite the chill in the air.
Only one corner remained of the building, the rest of the construction laid in rubble on and around the foundations.
Mrs Carseldine stood, her legs hidden behind piles of broken bricks and warped timber. She either hadn't seem them arrive or was ignoring the intrusion entirely, engrossed in her task.
"Mrs Carseldine!" Foyle called as they approached the outer rim of strewn bricks and timber. "You need to come out of there. It's not safe." He put out his hand, ready to take hers and tentatively placed a foot onto a pile of timber.
"I have to find it, Mr Foyle" she muttered, using her chaffed and cut hands to shift bricks and re-arrange pieces of timber. "I can't leave until I find it." Her face contorted as she scanned the debris, her head turning rapidly from side to side, her hat long since forgotten.
"Find what, Mrs Carseldine?" Foyle asked, inching closer to the frantic woman.
"Roger's money" she replied, although she barely stopped her exploration.
Foyle inched closer, narrowing the gap between them. Although he was careful where he was putting his feet, the rubble beneath him groaned. He reached out and touched her elbow.
"It has to be here" she moaned, kicking a large piece of broken glass with the toe of her shoe.
"There is no money, Mrs Carseldine. Your broth-in-law lied….. to all of you."
Doris Carseldine's head slowly rose. "How can you know that?"
Foyle tapped his pocket, his finger tips making a hollow noise against the hard cover of the ledger. "It was all in code….he owed more money than he had to give away. I'm guessing that he didn't want you, or anybody else to know."
Foyle slid his hand down her arm and grabbed hold of her wrist, wrapping his fingers around firmly so that she couldn't pull free. "Let's get out of this, hmm?"
Doris Carseldine nodded and pursed her lips. With her free hand pressing down on his shoulder, she stepped out of the mess, carefully placing her weight on a short piece of timber that sat above the wreckage.
Together they walked out, slowly picking out footholds as they went. When they finally made it out, Foyle led her over to a tree near the road. Sighing, she sat herself down and leaned back against the trunk.
"Your son…." Foyle started, slipping a hand casually into his pocket.
"My Teddy's at home, Mr Foyle."
"Mmwell, he's not actually" Foyle refuted. "My driver's taken him to hospital. He's a very sick young man."
Mrs Carseldine lifted her head, giving them both a wide eyed stare. Her jaw dropped.
"I'd say he's cut his leg on something here" Foyle stated, "and it's got infected."
"Ohhh" she groaned and dropped her head into her hands. "I didn't mean to get him involved. Trevor tried to get him out of it but, with Roger, once you were in, there was no getting out. 'Eddy's in for good, now' he'd say."
Milner looked across to Foyle, his head tilted in question.
"'Eddy', Mrs Carseldine?" Foyle asked.
"It's what Roger called him. He said Teddy sounded childish."
"E...F" Milner whispered. "Eddy Flaxton."
The Wolseley suddenly appeared over the crest, the crunch of a missed gear announcing its arrival.
"I think you'd better come with us, Mrs Carseldine."