My meeting with Elizabeth was difficult. When I told her she became suddenly still and motionless with a frozen face. At first, I thought she was that type of Englishwoman to whom the exhibition of any emotion is the utmost in bad taste, but after five minutes she broke down in a paroxysm of tears and was led away by her mother. I felt very sorry for her. Both she and Bob were late starters in the Marriage Stakes and now the race had been scratched. I didnt know her very well but enough to know that she would have made Bob a fine wife.
Mr Mount, of course, took it more calmly, death being part of the stock-in-trade, as it were, of a solicitor. But he was perturbed about the manner of death. Sudden death was no stranger to him, and if Bob had broken his neck chasing a fox that would have been in the tradition and acceptable. This was different; this was the first murder in Totnes within living memory.
And so he was shaken but recovered himself rapidly, buttressing his cracking world with the firm assurance of the law. There is, of course, a will, he said. Your brother was having talks with me about the new will. You may or may not know that on marriage all previous wills are automatically voided, so there had to be a new will. However, we had not got to the point of signing, and so the previous existing will is the document we have to consider.
His face creased into a thin, legal smile. I dont think there is any point in beating about the bush, Jemmy. Apart from one or two small bequests to members of the farm staff and personal friends, you are the sole beneficiary. Hay Tree Farm is yours now or it will be on probate. There will, of course, be death duties, but farm land gets forty-five per cent relief on valuation. He made a note. I must see your brothers bank manager for details of his accounts.
I can give you most of that, I said. I was Bobs accountant. In fact, I have all the information here. I was working on a suggested scheme for the farm thats why I came down this weekend.
That will be very helpful, said Mount. He pondered. I would say that the farm, on valuation, will prove to be worth something like £125,000. That is not counting live and dead stock, of course.
My head jerked up. My God! So much?
He gave me an amused look. When a farm has been in the same family for as long as yours the cash value of the land tends to be ignored it ceases to be regarded as invested capital. Land values have greatly appreciated in recent years, Jemmy; and you have 500 acres of prime land on red soil. At auction it would fetch not less than £250 an acre. When you add the stock, taking into account the admirable dairy herd Bob built up and the amount of modernization he has done, then I would say that the valuation for the purposes of probate will be not much less than £170,000.
I accepted this incredible thing he was telling me. Mount was a country solicitor and knew as much about local farm values as any hard-eyed unillusioned farmer looking over his neighbours fields. He said, If you sold it you would have a sizeable fortune, Jemmy.
I shook my head. I couldnt sell it.
He nodded understandingly. No, he said reflectively. I dont suppose you could. It would be as though the Queen were to sell Buckingham Palace to a property developer. But what do you intend to do? Run it yourself?
I dont know, I said a little desperately. I havent thought about it
Therell be time to think about it, he said consolingly. One way would be to appoint a land agent. But your brother had a high opinion of Jack Edgecombe. You might do worse than make him farm manager; he can run the farming side, of which you know nothing and you can operate the business side, of which he knows nothing. I dont think it would be necessary to interrupt your present career.
Ill think about that, I said.
Tell me, said Mount. You said you had a scheme for the farm. Could I ask what it is?
I said, The Government experimental farms have been using computers to work out maximum utilization of farm resources. Well, I have access to a computer and I put in all the data on Hay Tree Farm and programmed it to produce optimum profit.
Mount smiled tolerantly. Your farm has been well worked for four hundred years. I doubt if you could find a better way of working it than the ways that are traditional in this area.
I had come across this attitude many times before and I thought I knew how to handle it. Traditional ways are good ways, but nobody would say they are perfect. If you take all the variables involved in even a smallish farm the right mix of arable and pasture, what animals to keep, how many animals and when to keep them, what feedstuffs to plant and what to buy if you take all those variables and put them in permutation and combination you come up with a matrix of several million choices.
Traditional ways have evolved to a pretty high level and it isnt worth a farmers while to improve them. Hed have to be a smart mathematician and it would probably take him fifty years of calculation. But a computer can do it in fifteen minutes. In the case of Hay Tree Farm the difference between the traditional good way and the best way is fifteen per cent net increase on profits.
You surprise me, said Mount interestedly. We will have to talk about this but at a more appropriate time.
It was a subject on which I could have talked for hours but, as he said, the time wasnt appropriate. I said, Did Bob ever talk to you about that tray?
Indeed he did, said Mount. He brought it here, to this office, straight from the museum, and we discussed the insurance. It is a very valuable piece.
How valuable?
Now that is hard to say. We weighed it and, if the gold is pure, the intrinsic value will be about £2,500. But mere is also the artistic value to take into account its very beautiful and the antiquarian value. Do you know anything of its history?
Nothing, I said. Its just been something thats been around the house ever since I can remember.
It will have to be valued as part of the estate, said Mount. Sothebys might be best, I think. He made another note. We will have to go very deeply into your brothers affairs. I hope there will be enough er loose money available to pay the death duties. It would be a pity to have to sell off a part of the farm. Would you have any objection to selling the tray if it proved necessary?
No objection at all if it helps to keep the farm in one piece. I thought I would probably sell it anyway, it had too much blood on it for my liking. It would be an uncomfortable thing to have around.
Well, I dont think theres more we can do now, said Mount. Ill set the legal processes in motion you can leave all that to me. He stood up. Im the executor of the estate, Jemmy, and executors have wide latitude, especially if they know the ins and outs of the law. Youll need ready money to run the farm to pay the men, for example and that can be drawn from the estate. He grimaced. Technically speaking, Im supposed to run the farm until probate, but I can appoint an expert to do it, and theres nothing to prevent me choosing you, so I think well let it go at that, shall we? Or would you rather I employed a land agent until probate?
Give me a couple of days, I said. I want to think this over. For one thing, Id like to talk to Jack Edgecombe.
Very well, he said. But dont leave it much later than that.
Before leaving Mounts office I telephoned the farm as I had promised Dave Goosan and was told that Detective-Superintendent Smith would be pleased if I would call at Totnes police station at three oclock that afternoon. I said that I would and then went out into the street, feeling a little lost and wondering what to do next. Something was nagging at me and I couldnt pin it down, but suddenly I realized what it was.
I was hungry!
I looked at my watch and discovered it was nearly twelve oclock. I had had no breakfast and only a very light snack the night before so it wasnt really surprising. Yet although I was hungry I didnt feel like facing a set meal, so I climbed into the car and headed towards the Cott where I could get a sandwich.
The saloon bar was almost empty with just an elderly man and woman sitting quietly in one corner. I went to the bar and said to Paula, Ill have a pint, please.
She looked up. Oh, Mr Wheale, Im so sorry to hear of what happened.
It hadnt taken long for the news to get around, but that was only to be expected in a small town like Totnes. Yes, I said. Its a bad business.
She turned away to draw the beer, and Nigel came in from the other bar. He said, Sorry to hear about your brother, Jemmy.
Yes, I said. Look, Nigel; I just want a beer and some sandwiches. I dont feel much like talking just now.
He nodded, and said, Ill serve you in a private room if you like.
No, that doesnt matter; Ill have it here.
He phoned the order through to the kitchen, then spoke to Paula who went into the other bar. I took a pull of beer and was aware of Nigel coming to the counter again. I know you dont want to talk, he said. But theres something you ought to know.
What is it?
He hesitated. Is it true that the dead man the burglar up at the farm was an American?
Theres no certainty yet, but its a probability, I said.
He pursed his lips. I dont know if this is relevant, but Harry Hannaford told me a couple of days ago that an American had made Bob an offer for that tray you know, the one they found was so valuable.
Where did this happen?
Nigel flipped his hand. In here! I wasnt here at the time, but Harry said he heard the whole thing. He was having a drink with Bob at the time.
I said, Do you know this American?
I dont think so. We get a lot of Yanks here you run a place as old as the Cott and youre on the culture circuit. But we didnt have any Americans staying here just then. We have one here now, though; he arrived yesterday.
Oh! What kind of an American?
Nigel smiled. Oldish about sixty, Id say. Name of Fallon. He must have a lot of money, too, judging by the telephone bill hes run up. But I wouldnt say hes a suspicious character.
Getting back to Hannaford and the other Yank, I said. Can you tell me anything more?
Theres nothing more to tell. Just that the Yank wanted to buy the tray thats all Harry said. He looked up at the clock. Hell be in soon, as like as not, for his midday pint. He usually comes in about now. Do you know him?
I cant place him.
All right, said Nigel. When he comes in Ill tip you the wink.
The sandwiches arrived and I took them to a corner table near the fireplace. When I sat down I felt suddenly tired, which wasnt surprising considering Id been up all night and subject to a hell of a lot of tension. I ate the sandwiches slowly and drank some more beer. I was only now coming out of the shock that had hit me when I found Bob, and it was beginning to really hurt.
The pub started to fill up and I saw one or two faces I knew, but no one bothered me, although I intercepted some curious glances from eyes that were quickly averted. But theres a basic decency among countrymen which forbade them overt curiosity. Presently I saw Nigel talking to a big man in tweeds, then he crossed to me and said, Hannafords here. Want to talk to him?
I looked around the crowded bar. Id rather it wasnt here. Have you a room I can use?
Take my office, said Nigel promptly. Ill send Harry in after you.
You can send a couple of pints, too, I said, and left the bar by the back door.
Hannaford joined me in a few minutes. Main sorry to hear about Bob, he said in a deep voice. Manys the laugh weve had here. He was a good man.
Yes, Mr Hannaford; he was. It was easy to see the relationship between Hannaford and Bob. When a man is a regular caller at a pub he strikes up an easy and casual acquaintanceship in those four walls. More often than not it goes no further than that and there may be no meeting outside the pub. But for all that there need be no shallowness to it its just uncomplicated and friendly.
I said, Nigel tells me there was an American wanting to buy the tray from Bob.
That there was and moren one. Bob had two offers to my knowledge, both from Americans.
Did he? Do you know anything about these men, Mr Hannaford?
Hannaford pulled his ear. Mr Gatt was a real nice gentleman not at all pushy like a lot of these Yanks. A middle-aged man he was, and well dressed. Very keen to buy that tray from Bob was Mr Gatt.
Did he offer a price a definite price?
Not straight out he didnt. Your brother said it was no use him offering any price at all until hed had the tray valued, and Mr Gatt said hed give Bob the valuation price whatever it was. But Bob laughed and said he might not sell it at all, that it was a family heirloom. Mr Gatt looked mighty put out when he heard that.
What about the other man?
The young chap? I didnt relish him much, he acted too high and mighty for me. He made no offer not in my hearing but he was disappointed when Bob said he wasnt set on selling, and he spoke pretty sharpish to Bob until his wife shut him up.
His wife!
Hannaford smiled. Well, I wouldnt swear to that he showed me no marriage lines but I reckon it was his wife or, maybe his sister, perhaps.
Did he give a name?
That he did. Now, what was it? Hall? No, thats not it. Steadman? Nooo. Wait a minute and Ill get it. His big red face contorted with the effort of remembering and suddenly smoothed out. Halstead that was it. Halstead was the name. He gave your brother his card I remember that. He said hed get in touch again when the tray was valued. Bob said he was wasting his time and thats when he lost his temper.
I said, Anything else you remember about it?
Hannaford shook his head. Thats about all there was to it. Oh, Mr Gatt did say he was a collector of pieces like that. One of these rich American millionaires, I expect.
I thought that rich Americans seemed to be thick on the ground around the Cott. When did this happen? I asked.
Hannaford rubbed his jaw. Let me see it was after they printed about it in the Western Morning News; two days after, to my best recollection. Thatud make it five days ago, so it was Tuesday.