There has been a glitch going on. I am hoping you can all read chapter 9 and 10 now. Thanks for your patience.

Chapter 10 – Escape

"The police didn't announce when they were coming to arrest someone if they had proof. Who were they trying to kid? Still things were getting too hot for him to stick around any longer." He'd been planning his exit ever since he had the letter from London saying the police had identified him. He had a case packed with three of Grantham's best suits, a cashmere over coat and three pairs of brand new shoes he'd ordered on Grantham's account. If he was leaving, he would leave in style. He had the cash he'd had stashed packed with the clothes as well. He'd wrapped the case in a piece of canvas to protect it from the elements and hidden it in a thicket of blackberries just outside of the village. It blended into the thicket so well, it was difficult to find even if you knew it was there. He got on his hat and coat, picked up the morning's out going mail and headed for the village.

He was sure the police were watching. This was going to have to be a game of pure distraction. He walked to the post office as if nothing were amiss. He collected the mail for the estate and checked his box. He made as though he were looking through the letters looking for something. When a group of women from the village came in he slipped around the counter and out through the back door. He promptly dumped the pile of letters into a waste bin as he set off along the back lane. A quick glimpse around the corner of the building confirmed his suspicions. There was a car with two men sitting across the street. The police were following him and waiting for him to come out of the post office. He continued along the back lane until he reached a row of cottages. Every one of them had a garden. It was easy enough to stay close to the bushes so no one would spot him out the window. He stopped when he got to Kieran Branson's. There was Kieran Branson's automobile sitting in the back garden in a small shed that had once served as a carriage house.

Back when Kieran and Ivy had first married he had been to the reception and by again to stop in for a visit. Like so many other cottages there was a rack on the wall by the back door to hold their keys. He smiled to himself as he made his way through the garden and glanced in the window. There was no sign of Ivy. He tried the door. Sure enough it was unlocked. From all those years ago when he was first working with his accomplice he knew people in small villages seldom locked their doors. They knew their neighbors or thought they did. There was no need.

He quickly grabbed the car keys off the rack. He spotted Ivy's brightly patterned scarf and her hat on a peg by the door. He helped himself to those as well. Once he was in the car, he took off his hat, wrapped Ivy's scarf around his neck and put her hat on his head. He looked ridiculous but it was enough to fool someone with a casual glance. He started the car. It had been years since he had driven and the controls had changed over the years. He hadn't been ignoring what was going on though. Every time he had ridden in the front seat of a car or gotten a ride with a lorry driver, he had watched carefully and noted the changes and how things worked. He over revved the engine a bit and took off with a squeak of the tires but he hadn't stalled the machine yet. He did a bit of a coasting shift up to the next gear. It was enough to get him through the village. No one drove all that fast in the village anyway. As he passed the post office he noticed the two policemen emerging from the building to look up and down the street. They knew he had given them the slip. By the time they figured out he had stolen the car, he had at least a fifteen minute lead. He made his way as fast as he dared back towards the Abbey. They would be looking for him in the opposite direction.

It only took a few seconds for him to retrieve the case from the bushes and toss it in the boot. He threw the canvas in there as well. You never knew when a bit of camouflage would come in handy. He was leaving his most prize possession behind. It couldn't be helped. Someday he would claim it, but not today. He took a back road and then another. The best thing about stealing a car from one of the Bransons was they both liked fast cars. This one was capable of doing at least sixty miles an hour or more. As he was getting the hang of driving he was going faster and faster on the straightaways. He had thought about heading to Ireland. It was the fastest way out of the country, but then again the police would know that and be looking for him.

He headed south instead. A nice relaxing ferry ride to France would be just the ticket. Let his new identity settle in and then travel back through England to Ireland. It sounded good to him. Ireland was full of small towns just ripe for the plucking. He had more than enough cash to see him through the winter. Spring would be soon enough to stop by the bank and withdraw his funds. He threw back his head and laughed. There was no way they were going to catch him. He spotted a muddy ditch by the side of the road. He stopped, not bothering to turn off the car. He got a handful of mud and smeared it across the plate. "No sense making it easy on the police," he thought.

-0-

"Mrs. Hughes, would you mind if I took a bit of time this afternoon," Anna asked. "I wanted to made a special dinner for John tonight to celebrate the crook being caught and the anniversary of moving to our own place. I thought I'd get a start on it early."

"Go ahead," Mrs. Hughes said with a sigh. "It's better than looking at the long faces around here. You'd think the police were coming to arrest everyone of them," Mrs. Hughes said gesturing to the gloomy group starting to assemble for lunch.

"Mr. Bates mentioned he was going to work in the attics today getting his Lordship's winter things down. You won't mention the surprise dinner when you see him?" Anna asked.

"No, now you go on. If Mr. Bates is up in the attics it will be a while before we see him," Mrs. Hughes said.

Anna hurried back to their cottage. She would bake a batch of scones they could have with the jar of strawberry jam she had left from summer for their breakfast. Dinner would be fresh vegetables that were still about from the autumn harvest and a pheasant she had gotten from the gamekeeper. It would be a lovely supper with candles for light. She didn't need a grand table to have a romantic dinner.

She hung up her hat and coat, put on her apron and set about making the scones. "Drat that shelf over the work counter," she thought. She would have to get John to tighten it up later. It was always wiggling. She put the dry ingredients in the bowl and mixed them together. John was right about making things ahead it made it so much easier. She turned to get the jug of milk from the ice box, as she turned back the tin of pepper sitting on the wiggly shelf tipped over and sprinkled a generous amount right into the mixing bowl.

"Oh no," Anna groaned. She put her hands on either side of the mixing bowl and looked down at the pepper sprinkled on top of the mixture. She was just reaching for a spoon when her hand stopped in mid air. John had said Vera had the habit of making pastry ahead. She had learned the habit from him just as Anna had done. Anna looked down at the pepper in the bowl again. It would be easy to add anything to a bowl in the middle of the afternoon if the dough mixture was made and sitting out. It wasn't one massive dose of arsenic. It had never made sense. All these years and it finally was clear. Arsenic was a cumulative poison, small doses administered over a long period of time that never left the body for your entire life. Small doses that could be administered, like when people lived as husband and wife! Mrs. Bartlett had said Vera had looked terrible for months. John had been coming back for his tea. It didn't make any difference if he had. Someone had more than enough opportunity to add the arsenic to the pie. They had fought or so he claimed. The final dose was high enough to finally do her in. Vera hadn't killed herself. She was murdered.

Anna looked up from the bowl in shock. She thought she might faint. John wasn't guilty. He had told her so many times he was innocent. She had listened to his explanations because she loved him. It couldn't have been him could it? She wanted him to be innocent. She was still reeling from the shock when there was a knock on the door. She went to answer the door still holding the offending mixing bowl in her hand.

-0-

"Kieran, where are those two little devils," Ivy demanded tapping her foot. It was after school and the boys were at the garage helping out until suppertime.

"What did they do now?" Kieran asked with a sigh.

"They've taken my best scarf and hat. If I see my things going past on a horse pulling a hay wagon, I'm going to box their ears," Ivy said angrily.

Kieran called the boys from where they were sorting bits for the scrappers.

"Ivy says you've taken her hat and scarf. Have you?" Kieran asked Shaun and Timothy.

"No," Timothy said looking right at Kieran.

"No, they were on the hook by the door when we left for school, like always I think" Shaun said.

"They didn't walk away by themselves," Ivy said with her hands on her hips.

"Why would we take them?" Timothy asked frankly. "We don't want you to send us back to the farm to live."

"If I find out you're lying I'll warm your bottoms," Ivy threatened.

"We're too big for you to spank," Shaun pointed out calmly. "Since we didn't take them you don't need to."

"We'll have a bit of a look around after I close up," Kieran said. "Maybe you left them in the car when you had it out yesterday. Shaun run over and check for Ivy."

"All right," Shaun ran down the lane then crossed the road to go look for Ivy's things. It wasn't a few minutes and Shaun was back. He was almost out of breath he had run so fast. "Kieran, the car is gone."

"What? It can't be. You two weren't out joy riding were you?" he said.

Two heads shook, No.

"I'll be damned," Kieran said. He telephoned the local constable to meet him at their cottage. As soon as the garage was locked up they headed over to the cottage to wait for the police. They didn't have long to wait when two police cars pulled up and the Detective Inspector and the Sergeant they recognized from December got out along with another Detective.

"Now we know how he got out of town," the Detective said.

"Who ever it was took my hat and scarf as well," Ivy said in annoyance. "My best ones."

"Do you know who took my car and my wife's things?" Kieran asked.

"We do. He goes by the alias of the Mastermind," the Detective Inspector replied.