The Mystery of Fitzjames Manor

©2015 Richard Humphreys

The Find-Outers visit Fitzjames Manor and are very quickly embroiled in a new mystery that has its roots in the distant past. With the help of a couple of old friends, Fatty and the Find-Outers piece together the clues and are led finally to an astonishing discovery.

Chapter 10: Suspicious Characters

Back | Index | Next

P.C. Pippin arrived early at Mr. Goon's house. He had cycled from Sheepsale and having propped his bicycle against the front wall, knocked on the door, it was answered by Mrs. Boggs.

'He's not here,' she announced, peering round the door in a suspicious manner. 'He went off early, something about raucous singing last night, or a lost cat or some such nonsense.'

'Well, I've arranged to meet him,' Pippin said, 'so I'd better come in.'

'Well, I s'pose it'll be all right, he shouldn't be long,' Mrs Boggs said, showing him into Mr. Goon's office. 'You sit down there and I'll make you a nice cup of tea.'

'Oh, no thank you,' Pippin said sitting down behind Mr. Goon's desk, 'I've not long had breakfast.'

'Oh well, suit yourself,' Mrs Boggs said sniffily, not understanding why anyone would turn down the offer of a cup of tea. 'Anyway, as I say, he shouldn't be too long. Oh, he hates being called out early like. He's got his routine, has Mr Goon, and it don't include being called out early. Truth to tell, it don't include being called out very much at all, really.'

'Well, thank you er Mrs...?' Pippin said, wishing she would go away.

'Boggs, Mrs Boggs. I've been doing for Mr. Goon now for about, oh I should say, five years give or take,' she said putting her hands on her hips. 'Mind you, he's not an easy man, never has been, very particular, he is. Just like my late husband, Albert, he was particular, so I s'pose I'm used to doing for a man who's what you might call particular.'

Just then the telephone in the hall rang. Mrs. Boggs rushed to get to it before Pippin had a chance to move and then poked her head back round the office door. 'It's Lady Something-or-other from the big house wanting Mr. Goon. I said as how he was out so she wants to talk to you instead.'

Pippin joined her in the hall and took the phone. Mrs Boggs remained standing next to him, all ears. Pippin put his hand over the receiver. 'Er, thank you Mrs Boggs, I'll call you if I need anything.'

'As if I'm interested, anyway,' she said and flounced into the kitchen where she lurked near the door to the hall trying to remove an imaginary cobweb.

Just then the front door opened and Mr. Goon appeared. He was annoyed to see Pippin using his own, personal telephone.

'I'll take that, thank you,' he said, grabbing the receiver. 'You wait in there,' he nodded towards the office and waited for Pippin to shut the door before speaking.

'P.C. Goon here,' he growled.

'But I've just been told you were out,' Lady Fitzjames said, surprised to hear Goon's voice on the other end of the line.

'I was out, but now I'm back in,' he snapped. 'Who is this?'

'It's Lady Fitzjames,' came the reply. 'From the manor.'

Mr. Goon's manner changed immediately.

'Oh, er, yes, of course, Your Ladyship, I should have recognized your voice,' he stammered. 'I hope you've not had another break in, that would be bad luck?' he said and giggled nervously.

'No, I haven't, I'm very pleased to say,' Lady Fitzjames replied, failing to see anything even faintly humorous about being burgled. 'But I thought I ought to let you know that a suspicious character was seen snooping round the grounds yesterday.'

'Really,' Goon said getting his notebook out, 'that's very interesting, do you have a description of him?'

'Yes, I do,' Lady Fitzjames replied. 'Wait a moment I have it here.'

'Good,' thought Goon, 'once I've got a description, it won't be long before I apprehend the thug who's doing this. That'll be a feather in my cap and one in the eye for that fat boy and his crew.'

'Are you there?' Lady Fitzjames said returning to the phone. 'Good. Now, he was not very tall, about five feet three inches.'

'Five foot three,' Goon repeated.

'Age, quite young, we're not at all sure of his age, but no more than sixteen.'

'Oh, a youngun,' Goon said. 'The worst sort, in my experience.'

'Wearing a grey sweater and short trousers,' Lady Fitjames continued.

Goon frowned. 'Short trousers? Doesn't sound much like a burglar,' he thought, puzzled. 'But you never know, he was probably in disguise.'

'And he had bulging eyes and was a bit overweight,' Lady Fitzjames said. 'Have you got that?'

'Er, yes, got that, bulging eyes, overweight,' Goon repeated as he made his notes. 'Sounds like a right ugly ruffian, don't he?' He then caught sight of his own reflection in the hall mirror and blinked. 'Er what I meant was, he sounds a bit suspicious,' he said and cleared his throat.

'And when challenged, he claimed to be a locksmith. Well, when I heard that it aroused my suspicions immediately,' Lady Fitzjames said. 'You see, I haven't engaged a locksmith.'

'Locksmith,' Goon said and wrote it down. 'And who was it confronted this ere miscreant, may I ask?'

'An artist I've employed to make some studies of the manor and its grounds, which I can take with me when I sell up,' Lady Fitzjames replied. 'Stephen Taffler, he's an A.R.A.'

'Stephen Taffler, he's, he's a what?' Goon asked.

'An A.R.A., Associate of the Royal Academy,' Lady Fitzjames explained.

'I see,' Goon said making some more notes. 'And was this person violent towards Mr. Taffler?'

'No, I don't think so,' Lady Fitzjames said. 'But Mr. Taffler did say that he crept up on him and thought that it might have been his intention to cause him injury.'

'I see,' said Goon. 'Yes, very likely, this type are a desperate bunch and sly with it. Right, if you can let me have Mr. Taffler's address, I'll go and talk to him. Get a statement, as we in the force call it.'

Lady Fitzjames gave an audible sigh. 'He lives on a boat that's moored along the river in Peterswood somewhere,' she said. 'I'm not sure of its exact mooring, however.'

'And has this ere boat got a name?' Goon asked.

'Yes, The Blue Swan,' Lady Fitzjames said. 'You should be able to find it easily enough. I do feel I need to point out to you that Mr. Taffler is prone to exaggeration, so I would council you to treat his statement with caution.'

'I'll do just that. Thank you very much for the information, your Ladyship,' Goon said. 'I'll get onto it straight away.'

He put down the receiver and went into his office.

'I'll have me seat back, if you don't mind,' he said to Pippin and parked himself behind his desk.

'That was her Ladyship on the phone,' he said. 'Says some artist saw a suspicious character hanging round the grounds of the manor yesterday.'

'Really,' Pippin said, suddenly interested. 'Any description.'

Goon read out the description. When he had finished he shook his head. 'Funny thing is, it sounds a bit my nephew, Ern.'

Pippin was surprised. 'I didn't know you had a nephew,' he said.

'Oh yes, got three,' Goon said, 'my younger brother's kids. There's Perce and Sid, they're twins. Lovely boys, very intelligent.' He shook his head again very slowly and very sorrowfully. 'And then there's Ern.' Mr. Goon put his fingertips together in his lap. 'Let me tell you a bit about my nephew, Ern,' he said sadly. 'I've been like a second father to that boy, and what have I had in return? Nothing but treachery and ingratitude, that's what.' He put his hand to his forehead and rubbed it slowly. 'He's worked against me at every turn, that boy. Course he's been turned agin me by that Trotteville pest. He got his claws into Ern just so he could use him to get at me. Use him as a spy, you know. Getting Ern to snoop around my office for confidential information and then passing it on, treacherous young cur! And I've done my best by him, oh yes I have. And as sure as my name's Theophilus Goon, I've never laid a finger on him, even what with all the cheek and spite and all. Never laid a finger on him. Hurts me now when I think of how he's repaid my kindnesses.'

'And you think this suspect is Ern?' asked Pippin incredulously.

Goon shook his head. 'No, no it can't be,' he said dismissing the idea. 'Last I heard they were all down with the measles. And anyway, he'd be too terrified to come to Peterswood without telling me.'

'Terrified!' Pippin said aghast.

'Er, yes, well, er, what I mean is, er, terrified of hurting my feelings, so to speak,' Goon stuttered.

'Well, if that's the case,' Pippin said, 'then he's a right bundle of contradictions. From what you say, he goes out of his way to hurt your feelings.'

Goon stood up suddenly. 'Yes, well that's Ern, for you,' he said ending the conversation. 'Now then,' he said. 'I've got some routine paperwork here which I'd like you to get done whilst I go and find this so called artist.'

Pippin flushed slightly. 'But I'm not here to do your paperwork Mr. Goon,' he said. 'I'm here to assist you with this enquiry.'

'And that's exactly what you'll be doing, Pippin,' Goon said walking to the door. 'I can't do two things at once, so by doing the paperwork, you'll be assisting me by giving me the time to go and look for this artist chap.'

Before Pippin could say another word, Goon had disappeared and the front door slammed. Pippin sighed. 'It's just like the last time I was here,' he thought. He sat down behind Goon's desk and began to sort through the piles of paperwork scattered across its surface.

Mrs. Boggs appeared at the door. 'Oh, so he's gone out again, has he?' she said and gave Pippin an exaggeratedly sympathetic look. 'What about a nice cup of tea, dear?' she asked.

Pippin looked up from the desk with a weary look on his face. 'Thank you, Mrs Boggs,' he sighed, 'milk and two sugars, please.'

Just like Pippin, Ern had got up early that morning as well. His aunt and uncle, the Wooshes, were early risers, and breakfast was on the table at seven each morning. Whilst his aunt was in the kitchen frying eggs and bacon, Ern sat opposite his uncle eating his porridge. Ern was rather in awe of his uncle, who was tall and rarely spoke and seemed to be largely uninterested in what was going on around him. Ern's aunt ate her breakfast even earlier and so Ern generally shared the table with his uncle in complete silence. It was different when his cousins, Glad and Liz, were there, as they never seemed to stop talking. But they were away on a school camping trip, which Ern was secretly pleased about as the twins did have a habit of following him around and watching his every move. They seemed to find Ern fascinating for some strange reason, which he had never been able to put his finger on.

His aunt appeared and removed the porridge bowls and in their place put down plates of eggs and bacon. This really was a treat for Ern, as he never got eggs and bacon for breakfast at home. There, it was generally bread and dripping and porridge. Eggs and bacon might be had occasionally, but that would be for dinner, never breakfast.

'And what will you be doing today, Ern?' his aunt asked as she sat down at the table to drink a cup of tea. Before he could answer, she continued: 'Your uncle thinks that tree-house you made some time ago in the back garden, may need a bit of repairing. You wouldn't want your cousins falling out of it and breaking their necks, would you?'

'No Auntie, I wouldn't,' Ern said. 'I'll see to it before I go out.'

Ern looked at his uncle, who was enjoying his eggs and bacon between large gulps of tea, and nodded.

'Your uncle says, that if you need anything, it'll be in the shed,' his aunt continued. 'And what did you say you were doing after that?'

'I'm going to the library,' Ern replied, wiping his plate with a piece of bread just as he had seen his Uncle do.

This announcement seemed to surprise his aunt and even his uncle looked at Ern across the table with a quizzical expression faintly discernable on his otherwise impassive features.

Ern noticed these glances and quickly added: 'I'm working on something about the history of Peterswood.'

'It's not like you to do schoolwork in the holidays, Ern,' his aunt said. 'You feeling all right?'

'Oh, it's not schoolwork, Aunty,' Ern said, pushing his plate aside. 'I'm just interested, that's all.'

He asked if he could leave the table and fled into the garden to escape any more awkward questions. He had a good look round. His uncle was a gardener and general handyman, and the garden was very neat and tidy. There was a wonderful bed of daffodils and narcissi nodding their heads in the breeze and the spring sunshine picked them out and made them shine like gold. Ern liked flowers and often thought that he'd rather like to be a gardener when he grew up, that or a poet! Beyond the flowerbeds was the fir tree in which he had built the tree house, looking exactly the same. He climbed up it and into the shelter. A whole gang of ghastly looking dolls, lying strewn around the tiny platform, greeted him with fixed stares. Ern grimaced at the sight of them and shoved half of them out of the tree. They fell in a heap on the lawn with one rather plaintive 'Mamma', floating up to him.

Although the planking was still quite firm, a few nails had worked themselves loose, so he shinned down, went to the shed and returned with a hammer and a handful of very long nails which he proceeded to bang into the loose planks. After twenty minutes, he was satisfied that the tree house would once again withstand anything his cousins cared to throw at it. He sat for a while and looked around. There was the cottage that the Larkins had lived in, the one he had spied on when helping Fatty solve another mystery. 'Coo, that was exciting,' he thought, remembering, and that thought brought back many other thrilling and sometimes frightening escapades he had shared with the Find Outers and a feeling of pride spread over him. He was just enjoying this sensation when he was rudely awakened from his daydreams by the sound of whistling coming from the direction of the river that ran just beyond a row of shrubs on the other side of the garden. Ern carefully parted the branches and leaned forward, poking his head through the foliage for a better look, and almost fell out of the tree with shock. For there, strolling along the river path without a care in the world, was the very man he had followed and spoken to at Fitzjames Manor the day before! He seemed completely unconcerned that the police might be looking for him, and Ern thought it took a particular type of hardened criminal to behave with that much self-confidence. One who was both cunning and ruthless!

He looked at his watch. It was just after eight o'clock and he had agreed to be at the library by ten-thirty. He had plenty of time to follow him.

Ern suddenly thought of the disguise Fatty had given him. Would he have time to change his appearance? The man had sat down and was now looking intently at the old house across the river and writing in a notebook, just as Ern had seen him do at the manor. Ern knew that the house across the river was owned by a retired Colonel, who was pretty rich, from what Ern had been able to gather. Was the suspect planning to rob it?

Having climbed down the tree at top speed, he rushed into the house, almost colliding with his aunt who was clearing away the breakfast dishes. 'Careful, Ern, you almost had me over. What's the rush?'

'Sorry, Aunty,' he called as he bounded up the stairs two at a time. 'I've just remembered something I have to do.'

He grabbed the beard, hat and glasses that Fatty had given him and stuffed them into his trouser pocket. He was pleased that he had put on his long trousers that morning as a beard and short trousers would have looked rather odd.

Trying to appear as calm as possible he ambled past his aunt and out into the garden. 'I'd better put the disguise on in the shed,' he thought.

There was no mirror in the shed, so Ern had to stick the beard on by touch alone and prayed that it was not too crooked. One of his uncle's old work coats was hanging on a peg in the corner and he put that on as well. It would be better to put the glasses on once he was out of the garden, he decided, and cautiously opened the shed door. His aunt was nowhere to be seen, so he quickly scooted out of the shed and carefully pushed his way through the shrubs that separated the garden from the river path. The man was no longer sitting, but was slowly walking away down the path. Ern popped the glasses on the end of his nose and, carefully watching over the top of them, followed at a discreet distance.

The man was completely unaware that he was being trailed, of course. He had just been to the village to buy a newspaper and had stopped to make a quick sketch of the beautiful old house he had seen across the river. He was now heading back to his boat 'The Blue Swan' and didn't notice that some distance behind him a rather strange looking person was keeping a close eye on him.

Ern was finding this 'shadowing' business more difficult that he thought. The man was walking very slowly and kept stopping to stare at things, which bothered Ern, because he also had to walk slowly and keep stopping. So every time the man stopped, Ern stopped and bent down to pretend to tie his shoelaces. This performance went on for quite a distance, and at one point the man even turned round and stared straight at Ern, before continuing on his way. Ern was feeling uncomfortable and he began to sweat. His cap and his uncle's coat were very thick and the sun was quite strong, and as he sweated, his beard began to un-stick.

Then suddenly, the man left the path and jumped on board a boat that was tied up to a mooring post. Ern was in a quandary now, should he carry on walking, which would mean passing the boat, or should he stay where he was and keep watch? He looked around, but there were no convenient bushes to hide behind, nothing but an ivy covered brick wall skirting the path.

'What would Fatty do,' he asked himself. 'Well, he'd probably get as close as he could to the boat and then sit down and pretend to nod off, but keep watch.'

Ern decided that this is what he would do, so he cautiously walked to within a few yards of the boat, sat down against the wall and pretended to go to sleep. He could hear a wireless playing music and the man moving around below deck. The minutes past and Ern began to wonder what he should do next. Should he run and get Fatty? But Fatty may already be on his way to Fitzjames Manor. Larry and Daisy would be around though. He looked at his watch, it was eight forty-five, they would still be at home.

'That's what I'll do,' he said to himself. 'They'll know how to handle this.'

He stood up and began to walk back along the river path, but he had not gone far when he noticed a figure up ahead walking towards him. Ern slowed down and peered over his glasses. There was something about the way the person up ahead walked that was familiar, only too familiar! 'It's Uncle,' he said. And sure enough Mr. Goon was making his way along the river path looking for the boat on which the man Ern was trailing, lived.

Ern turned in his tracks and began walking quickly back in the direction of the boat. He wanted to run, but knew that his uncle could see him and would think it very suspicious if he suddenly began running, and would probably give chase. And then to Ern's horror, the man he was trailing, emerged from the boat and began watering some window boxes that hung on its side. Ern was trapped between the two men, what was he to do? His heart was pounding, his beard kept flapping on one side and he put his hand to his cheek to hold it in place and pulled the cap down as far as possible. There was nothing else for it, he would have to carry on walking towards the boat and hope he wouldn't be recognised. He could see that further up along the path the wall ended and was replaced by bushes again. He could hide amongst those until the coast was clear.

As he reached the boat, the man turned to look at him. Ern put his hand up to his cheek again to keep the beard in position and kept going.

He finally reached the end of the wall and flung himself into the bushes, and having caught his breath, carefully peered out. He could see Mr. Goon talking with the man. They seemed quite friendly, which Ern thought was odd especially as he thought his uncle was there to make an arrest. The man then jumped into the boat and emerged a couple of minutes later with a piece of paper, which he handed to Mr. Goon. He saw his uncle studying the piece of paper and after a brief conversation, the two men walked off together in the direction of Peterswood.

Ern raised his cap and scratched his head. He was very troubled. 'What's happening?' he said. 'Has Uncle arrested the man and taken him into custody, or what?'

Ern did not know it yet, but Mr. Goon had had a terrible shock!

His uncle had found the boat, The Blue Swan, and come across Mr. Taffler watering his window boxes.

'Ah, you are the gentleman who saw the suspicious character yesterday in the grounds of Fitzjames Manor, are you not?' Goon asked in his most officious voice.

'Yes, Constable,' Mr. Taffler replied, putting down the watering can. 'Stephen Taffler, I was there making some sketches of the house and its grounds at the behest of Lady Fitzjames.'

'And this was when you came across the intruder, was it?' Goon asked, looking him up and down and thinking that artists were a complete waste of space.

'Yes, that's right,' Mr. Taffler said, nodding vigorously. 'He sort of crept up on me while I was sitting down drawing in my sketchbook. Luckily, I heard him and turned round just in time. He was a bit startled when I stood up, I'm quite a tall man, as you can see, and he asked what the time was. Well, I knew that was a line he was spinning me because he was wearing a watch and when I pointed that out to him, he lied and said it had stopped.' Mr. Taffler laughed. 'Well, I wasn't going to be taken in by that. He then told me he was a locksmith.'

'A likely story,' Goon said.

'That's just what I thought,' continued Mr. Taffler, rather enjoying himself. 'I'd heard about the robbery from Lady Fitzjames' secretary Mrs Chivers, and later I thought he may have had something to do with it, so I reported the matter to Lady Fitzjames herself.'

'I see,' said Goon making some notes. 'Now, I have the description you gave to Lady Fitzjames, but I'd like to go over it with you, just to make sure nothing has been changed in the telling.'

'I've got something better than that,' Mr. Taffler said eagerly. 'When I got back here, I made a drawing of him from memory. It won't be one hundred per cent accurate, but I have an excellent memory for details, so I think it's a pretty good likeness. If you'll wait here, I'll get it for you.'

'Ho, ho,' thought Mr. Goon, 'a drawing of him, eh? This just gets better and better, wait till I tell the Superintendent. I'll have this mystery wrapped up in no time. Mind you, I hope this fellow isn't one of them there modern artists drawing ears and eyes all over the place, that'd be no good.'

Mr. Taffler returned with a sheet of paper, which he handed to Goon. 'There you are,' he said with a big grin on his face, 'that's the villain.'

Mr. Goon took the sheet and stared at the drawing and, to his utter consternation, saw Ern's face staring back at him!

'I think I've caught his shifty expression rather well, Constable Goon,' Mr. Taffler was saying proudly. 'Expression is one of my fortes. Those bulging eyes, for example, a criminal's face if ever there was one.'

Mr. Goon was lost for words. He gulped and then looked even more closely at the drawing, thoughts tumbling through his brain. Could that be Ern? Could that really be Ern? Has Ern taken up crime? Oh, the shame of it! What will the Superintendent say? Where did I go wrong? I'll have to resign! I'll lose me pension! I'll murder him, that's what I'll do!

'Will that do?' asked Mr. Taffler.

Mr. Goon looked up from the drawing and blinked a couple of times. 'Do? Er, yes, this'll do.' He folded the drawing and slipped it into his pocket. 'You'll need to come along with me, Sir,' he said trying to sound official. 'You'll need to make a formal statement.'

'Oh dear,' said Mr. Taffler. 'Well, I suppose it is necessary. You'll want to catch this villain before he can do any more damage.'

'Just so,' said Mr. Goon in a slow and menacing voice. 'I'll want to get my hands on this one just as soon as I can.'

When they had gone, Ern climbed out of the bushes. He thought it was safe to take off his beard, hat and glasses and he stuffed them into the pocket of the coat. It was nine thirty and he had to replace the coat in the shed before going down to the library to meet Larry and Daisy. He looked at the boat. Dare he have a quick look around? There was nobody about. He would just have a quick look, not touch anything. It wasn't a large boat, a cruiser, Ern thought it was called and he climbed on board. There was nothing of interest on the deck, so he had a quick look through the window in the door that led down to the cabin. It was quite dark below and it took Ern's eyes a short time to adjust. But when they did he could make out the shape of a table and a bench. There seemed to be paintings everywhere, some on the table, others leaning against the walls. Ern thought these were probably stolen! But what was that next to the table, that dark shape? He cupped his hands around his eyes and pressed his face up to the glass.

'Lummie,' he said, hardly believing his eyes. 'I think it's a pram, and its front wheels are wider than its back ones! So I was right, he is the burglar!'

Back | Index | Next