I have to admit I find Bates very hard to write. I keep thinking of Dollshouse Downton where he is just "So noble, so very, very noble." If you haven't seen it it's on YouTube and it is very funny. Thanks for all the comments, but honestly arsenic for suicide? Arsenic is a horrible, painful death, cyanide yes arsenic I don't think so. LOL. Fellows does what he does. It's all good fun. Finally got unblocked and figured out part of the later story. It took three days. I might have found a Thomas story in all of it, but that is for later!
Chapter 8 - Photographs
The police sergeant working on the Crawley case leaned against the bricks of an old bridge. He was dressed as a common workman and slouched in the shadows while he waited for his informant. There was a connection between the arson at the feedlot just outside of York and the Crawley case. He was sure of it, sure enough to bet his badge. He had been waiting almost ten minutes when his informant showed up. He slipped him the roll of bills to loosen the man's tongue and showed him another two bills if he was happy with the information.
"What have you got on the arson outside of York," the sergeant asked.
"It was done on orders from the top," the man said shuffling nervously. He had his hands pushed into his pockets and had a tremor common to those on the bottle who had gone too long without.
"Who's the man at the top?"
"I don't know. No one does. They call him the Mastermind."
"Does this Mastermind have another name?"
"I just told you it. If you're going to ask stupid questions I'm out of here."
"OK, OK, just calm down. There's no one about."
"Easy for you to say," the informant said glancing over his shoulder.
"Do you have a location for this Mastermind?"
"The orders came from London from a pub called the Cock and Boar."
"Who set the fires?"
"You got another roll on you?"
"I might."
"Let's see it first."
The sergeant reached in his shirt pocket and produced another two notes to add to the two in his hand.
"Adams and Greenfield. That's all I know."
The sergeant handed him the notes. The informant stuffed them into his trouser pocket and slouched away.
"So the Mastermind is in London or was just before the fire was lit," the sergeant thought. He waited a few minutes before he made his exit from under the bridge and headed off in the opposite direction. Finally they might have something to go on.
-0-
"It looks like you've been busy while I was in London with the Crawleys," John said looking around appreciatively at the spare room in the cottage he shared with his wife.
"I had a bit of time on my hands," Anna said with a smile. "You never know when we might have some company and be in need of another room. My sister was to visit while you were away and gave me a hand. I cleaned out a bit as well."
"Will I still be able to find things?" John teased putting and arm around Anna's waist.
"I'm sure you will. If you look in the right places," Anna teased back. "I'm sorry I didn't make it to London more often."
"London was the same as always in the summer, hot and noisy. You didn't miss much," John replied. "I went out with the crowd from downstairs once or twice. Otherwise I sat in the garden on my free days and read a book when the family was out."
"It sounds a bit boring," Anna said.
"In some ways it had its appeals, but nothing as appealing as being home with you," John replied swinging her back and forth a bit.
"Mr. Bates, are you feeling a bit frisky again so soon?" Anna teased.
"That and hungry," John replied with a slight chuckle. "What's for tea?"
"I was going to make a shepherd's pie," Anna said. "It can wait to later."
"I don't know why you always leave the meals to the last minute," John said. "It's easier to get it ready and then just finish it up before it goes in the oven."
"What ever you say Master Sergeant," Anna teased with John's old rank.
"I say it's easier," John said. He took Anna by the hand to their small kitchen and got out some carrots to peel and chop for the pie. Anna was busy cutting up some onion. Then she browned it along with the beef for the pie. It wasn't long and she had the mixture in the pan that would go into the oven later. John had put the flour, shortening and baking powder into a bowl and cut in the shortening.
"There," he said. "Now all you have to do is add a little water, make the crust for the top and Bob's your uncle."
"You have the oddest habits around the house for a man," Anna said with a smile.
"It's an old habit I learned from my mother," John said. "Vera didn't like it at first either until she caught on."
"John, what was the early part of your marriage to Vera like? I only know about the bad part."
"Happy enough I suppose," John said. "We were young and the world was our oyster. The possibilities were endless."
"So what changed it all?" Anna asked her smile had faded to a more serious expression.
"The African War. I signed up thinking it would be a change of scenery and maybe a new opportunity. Vera wanted our old life. We didn't see eye to eye on it. When I got back I was drinking more than I should have. She wanted to go back to how things were before and I wanted to move forward."
"Move forward to what?" Anna asked puzzled.
"New opportunities, new ways of doing things. Vera just couldn't see it. It's all in the past. Why all the questions all of a sudden?"
"Just curious," Anna said getting her smile back. "I was sorting out those papers finally. I put all the pictures into an album. There was one picture I didn't recognize."
She went to the shelf and pulled out the album. She opened it to a picture of a man in a British Army uniform.
"That's John Balfour," John replied. "He died over there. He was quite the fellow. Everyone called him the magician. He could figure anything out and fool the best of them. It was a valuable trick to have in a war zone."
"He sounds like an interesting fellow," Anna said. "You certainly looked a lot alike."
"He was interesting. People were always mistaking us for brothers. He was forever creating diversions and sneaking up on the enemy from behind. He would take them without a shot, quite amazing really. He was killed when one of the officers ordered a frontal assault that was poorly planned at best."
"That's a shame," Anna said. "It sounds as if you were close. Did Lord Grantham know him?"
"No, he was just another faceless soldier," John said closing the book and sticking it back on the shelf. "I've been in London all this time. The last thing I want to do on my day free is reminisce."
"What would you like to do?" Anna asked with a impish grin.
"Come to the sofa and I'll show you," John said pulling her over to sit on his lap.
-0-
"Lord Grantham, I was wondering if I might have a word," Thomas said one morning during breakfast a few days after everyone was back at Downton.
"Yes, Barrow. What is it?" Lord Grantham asked looking up from his paper.
"I was wondering, Sir, if I might ask a personal favor. While we were in London I was spending my free time at my cousin's. He gave me a few driving lessons. I was wondering if the chauffeur could give me a few more. I'm afraid I'm quite dreadful. I thought I might improve if a professional showed me what I was doing wrong," Thomas said.
"I didn't know you were interested in motor cars, Mr. Barrow," Tom contributed.
"I just thought it might be a useful skill to have someday," Thomas replied with a tight smile. "Motor cars are getting cheaper. Someday I might have one of my own or have a reason to drive one."
"It couldn't hurt to have someone else around here who can drive, now that Lady Edith is married and Ivy has moved on," Lord Grantham said. "Have the chauffeur give you a lesson or two in the afternoons when it is quiet."
"I'll teach you to drive myself," Tom contributed. "I rather have someone who doesn't know how to drive in a smaller vehicle than driving one of the larger cars."
"Why thank you very much, Mr. Branson," Thomas said.
"I have an appointment in Ripon this morning. I'll take you out for an hour or so after luncheon and see how you get on," Tom said.
"Very well, Sir. I'll be ready," Thomas replied.
-0-
"Try not to be so nervous," Tom said later that day while he was trying to show Thomas Barrow how to drive his car. The man had grasshoppered the car down the back drive at the Abbey four times until he got it moving and up to second gear.
"I'm sorry, Sir. I just don't seem to have the touch. It's the same with horses. The second I go near them they go crazy. I can't get them to budge or they run wild," Thomas said.
"How long have you been using your hair cream?"
"I beg your pardon, Sir?"
"I asked you how long you've been using the same hair cream," Tom said calmly.
"Since I was thirteen or fourteen," Thomas replied.
"There's your problem. Horses hate the smell of that stuff. Sets them off every time. Use a different product with less perfume and it should do the trick."
"I never thought of it, Sir."
"It's an old trick. When I started as a chauffeur I had to drive a coach half the time. You learn pretty quick," Tom replied. He gave Thomas some pointers in coming to a stop safely and staying to the side of the road. "Alright try starting off again. This time don't rev the engine. In other words don't push on the gas so hard until you feel the car start to move slightly."
Thomas did slightly better. He got the car moving with only one jerk.
"What did you do with your time in London?" Tom asked. "If you don't mind me asking."
"I have a cousin on the outskirts. I spent most of my time with him and his wife. I visited a few parks. Otherwise I was busy with work," Thomas replied.
"Did you go to any pubs?" Tom asked.
"Not a one, Sir," Thomas said. "I thought I'd spend my time doing something more worthwhile, like conquering the motor beast."
"I'd say your going to need quite a few more lessons before you have it conquered," Tom said with a crooked grin. "Slow down and shift to second gear. We'll take the road to the right. It leads to the back of the grounds. Nothing back there you can damage. Just stop if you see anything oncoming."
"Very well, Sir," Thomas replied letting out the breath he had been holding after he managed the shift.
-0-
"How did the meeting with the police go?" Lord Grantham asked Tom. They were walking the grounds inspecting the tent set up for the annual garden party.
"It's not Barrow," Tom replied. "They showed pictures at a pub in London they had a lead to. Not a soul recognized him. Besides I've never seen anyone that inept with a motor car before in my life. He managed to pinch his finger when I had him raise the bonnet to check the oil, then managed to get oil all over his hands with the plunger. No one can pretend to be as bad as he is."
"It's definite then?"
"His picture was recognized but we still have no concrete proof. It is all circumstantial. There are petty thefts when he was in the whereabouts, he can be placed at the pub but no one will identify him as the Mastermind, he can be placed in the area either working here or close enough to be watching over the years. There is enough to point the finger but not to convict," Tom replied.
Lord Grantham slowed. His steps faltered. He made for the closest folding chair and sat down with his hands over his face for a moment. Tom thought he had never seen his father-in-law look so weary and devastated at the same time.
"I don't know whether to cry in despair or act out in rage," Robert said sadly. "I don't know what to do."
"We can't let him know we're on to him," Tom replied. "The police were insistent on it. He's making mistakes. He thinks he's gotten away with murder. He's getting cocky. When he gets too cocky, they'll get him."
"I don't think I can take much more of this charade. He managed to pull the wool over everyone's eyes," Robert said.
"Not everyone," Tom said. "The wool is off ours now and the police's."
"To think I thought the worst of Barrow for years," Robert said.
"Thomas Barrow has always been petty. He's learned a few lessons the hard way. I never thought he had it in him to do something on this scale."
"I would have leaned the opposite way," Robert said with a sigh. "I haven't said it before but I don't know what I would do if you weren't here right now. I feel so utterly betrayed."
"If I wasn't here you'd get out your best shotgun and give him one in the arse like he deserves," Tom said in an attempt to lighten the situation.
"One day soon, I might just do that," Robert replied.
"Just don't ask me to load it for you. I'd probably put the shell in the wrong way round," Tom joked.
"You aren't that bad," Robert replied with a faint smile.
"How many pheasants did I bag at the last shoot?"
"Not a one."
"Barrow has a better chance of driving over one in the middle of the road," Tom said. "He really is dreadful."
"Worse than Edith was?" Robert asked getting up to continue on.
"Much and that's saying something," Tom said patting his father-in-law on the shoulder as they headed towards the house.