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When Superintendent John Mayfield took Harriet to the theatre, it should have been a pleasant night out for both of them. Instead, Harriet quarrelled with John, left Warwick to go back to Australia, and did not intend to return.Struggling to accept her departure, John began seeing Laura Grant, a new schoolmistress in the town. Whilst investigating the suspicious death of a local bank manager, John first meets Richard Gilson, the new doctor, unaware he is also keen to meet Laura. Soon afterwards the bank is robbed, and a murder is reported. Are the two crimes connected?Two other deaths occur, and John now knows Dr Gilson is seeing Laura, but he has to work with him. Whilst this all happening, someone is poisoning John's friend, Dr Thomas Waldren, and the main suspect is his wife, Sarah Waldren.

Sujets

Historical fiction

Thriller

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Publié par	eBook Versions
Date de parution	01 avril 2015
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781843963400
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0248€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Published by Knowle Villa Books

Copyright © 2010 Graham Sutherland

Graham Sutherland has asserted his
right under the Copyright, Designs and
Patents Act 1988 to be identified as
the author of this work.

ISBN 978-1-84396-339-4

Kindle ebook production
www.ebookversions.com

A CIP catalogue record for this
work is available from the British Library

All rights reserved. No part of this
publication may be reproduced, stored in or
introduced into a retrieval system or
transmitted in any form or by any means
electronic, photomechanical,
photocopying, recording or otherwise
without the prior permission of the publisher.
Any person who does any unauthorized
act in relation to this publication may
be liable to criminal prosecution.
Other books
by Graham Sutherland

Dastardly Deeds in Victorian Warwickshire
Leamington Spa, a photographic history of your Town
Leamington Spa, Francis Frith`s Town Country Memories
Around Warwick, Francis Frith`s Photographic Memories
Knights of the Road
Warwick Chronicles 1806 - 1812
Warwick Chronicles 1813 - 1820
Felons, Phantoms and Fiends
North to Alaska
A Taste of Ale
Wicked Women
Fakes, Forgers and Frauds
Warwickshire Crimes and Criminals
Midland Murders
English Eccentrics
Edward`s Warwickshire January - March 1901
Curious Clerics
Dastardly Doctors

As Joint Author
Policing Warwickshire, a Pictorial History of the Warwickshire Constabulary

Fiction
Mayfield (Part 1 of the Warwick Detective Trilogy)

Graham Sutherland can be contacted on:
graham.g.sutherland@btopenworld.com
www.talksandwalks.co.uk

MAYFIELD S LAW

Part 2 of the
Warwick Detective Trilogy

Graham Sutherland

KNOWLE VILLA BOOKS
Contents

Cover
Copyright Credits
Other books by Graham Sutherland

Title Page
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue

Historical Note
Preview of Mayfield s Last Case
About the author
Prologue

February 1825

The young man ran through thedark street, so totally distraught he had not noticed the swirling snow. Having left the Three Crowns in such a hurry, and without stopping toput on a coat, he was oblivious to the cold for the time being.
He counted the houses on his right handside as he ran. At last he found the one he wanted, opened the gate, ran up tothe front door and began to hammer on it loudly and frantically.
Soon an upstairs window opened, and hecould see what appeared to be a woman s shadow, silhouetted against a candle. Whatdo want? she called in a quavering voice. The doctor s not here!
But I need a doctor urgently, pleadedthe young man.
I m sorry, but my husband s out on acall.
When will he be back?
Not before morning. And that s providedthe snow doesn t settle too much.
Surely there s another doctor in town?
Well…there s Dr Boyd…but... sheanswered reluctantly.
Where can I find him? My wife s seriouslyill, and I must have a doctor, he interrupted her.
You d be better off not using him, shecautioned.
Don t you understand? his voice hadrisen. My wife s likely to die if she s not seen soon by a doctor. I must havea doctor to her. Please, where can I find him?
You really would be far better offwithout him. Believe me…
I ll take that chance. My wife will dieif she doesn t get some medical help soon.
The woman shook her head. But Dr Boyd…
PLEASE! Where can I find him?
Mrs Wilton gave him directions, albeitreluctantly. By the time she had finished, he was off running in the directionof Dr Boyd s house. Running along the street, the man counted the housesbefore sliding to a halt outside a rundown looking dwelling. A brass plaque onthe wall confirmed it was the residence of Dr William Boyd . Wasting notime, he hammered on the door, and continued until an upstairs window opened.
What do you want? called an imperiousvoice.
Dr Boyd. Can you tell me where he is,please?
You want Dr Boyd? The voice soundedamazed. You must be a stranger here?
Yes, we re just passing through.
Nobody in their right mind wants Dr Boyd.Go to Dr Wilton.
I have, but he s out on a call. Please!Where can I find Dr Boyd? My wife s having difficulty breathing and she islikely to die without a doctor. You must help me. Please!
Wait.
After what seemed a lifetime, the youngman heard the bolts on the door being drawn back. He was now starting to feelthe cold as the snow fell even heavier, settling on his shoulders and hair. Ashis body cooled, it provided no protection against the biting cold. The dooropened, and he saw a small, dirty, scruffily dressed man appear, who smeltstrongly of alcohol and stale sweat. From the way he swayed, the man wasobviously drunk. Clearly he had been in that state for some time, and wasgenerally unwholesome
Please! the young man pleaded. Wherecan I find Dr Boyd?
Who are you? I don t know you? The manstared at his visitor, holding his hand over his eyes, as he peered into thegloom and swirling snow.
I don t live here. We re just passingthrough. Where s Dr Boyd, please?
You re talking to him.
The young man s heart sank, and his worstfears were realized as he saw the wreck of a man standing in front of him. Nowhe fully understood Mrs Wilton s reluctance to send him here. Dr Boyd wasclearly an alcoholic, and in no state to treat anyone. But he had no choice. He would have to trust his beloved wife to this man, and just hope he was soberand concerned enough to treat her.
What s wrong with you? You look all rightto me, slurred Boyd.
It s not me. It s my wife. She can tbreathe properly.
Where are you staying?
At the Three Crowns in PopeStreet.
I know where it is! I ll be there soon, Boyd snapped. He turned on his heel, went back inside and closed the door. Fora moment, the young man was undecided what to do before he ran back to the ThreeCrowns.
Nearly two hours later, he was stillwaiting for Dr Boyd to arrive, as he held his dead wife s cooling hand. Evenmore distraught, he set off to find the missing doctor.
He did not have far to look before findinghim in the tap room of the Barley Mow, even more drunk than he wasbefore. The inn went suddenly quiet as he entered leaving the door open, andwith snow swirling behind him. The drinkers watched as he approached Dr Boyd.
You bastard! he spat. You drunkenbastard! You apology for a human being! You re not fit to be called a man, letalone a doctor. You never came near us, and now my darling Mary is dead. Dead!All because of you.
The room went even quieter, if that waspossible. All the drinkers watched, fascinated, as the drama unfolded beforethem. Boyd was lost for words, and although he tried to splutter an apology, nosounds came out of his mouth. He blinked and looked up at the new widower: andwas terrified by the look of pure hatred and menace he saw in the other man seyes. Even in his drunken state, Boyd knew he had never seen such quietlysuppressed anger, and he trembled.
The young man said nothing else, but he tooka long, last withering look at William Boyd, before turning on his heel andwalking out of the inn through the still open door. The other drinkers fellback as he approached, and nobody attempted to speak to him. Although well usedto Dr Boyd s drinking habits, they were shocked by what had happened.
The next morning, after he had made thenecessary funeral arrangements, the young man went to the town s onlysolicitor, Michael Clarke, to see what action he could take against Boyd.
How much money have you got? wasClarke s first question.
Only a few shillings.
Then forget it. If you can t afford topay for a prosecution, there s no way I m doing it for free. By rights I shouldcharge you for this consultation. But, I ll do this one on the house because ofyour recent loss. Good day sir.

In the following days, the locals became used to seeing the strangeyoung man wandering about the town, although he spent much of his time in thechurchyard by a freshly dug grave. There was no headstone, and her name wassimply recorded as Mary Gibbs deceased 4 February 1825 in the churchburial register. Her home town was shown as Rochester, and her husband s namewas given as Roland Gibbs. Many years later, these details would prove to befalse.
The grieving husband, the landlady of the ThreeCrowns , and Mrs Wilton, were the only people to attend Mary s funeral,apart from the vicar, and he was clearly disinterested. He was, however,pleasantly surprised when Mrs Wilton paid for the funeral. She felt somewhat toblame for directing the young man to Dr Boyd, who had remained sensibly out ofsight in the days following Mary s death, obviously terrified of meeting Rolandagain.
However, Boyd s worst fears were realizedseveral days later, when he was forced to leave the security of his house tobuy some more alcohol. He was scared to see Roland following him to the BarleyMow . Neither man spoke. It was as if Boyd had ceased to exist as far as Rolandwas concerned. Boyd started to relax when he saw the anger had gone out of theother man s eyes.
Considering the danger to be past, he nowfelt it was safe to resume his normal way of life. This included his weeklyvisit, always on a Wednesday night, to the widow Ellen Hawkins, who lived nottoo far out of the town. Nobody knew what she could possibly see in him andassumed, rightly, that it was purely a financial arrangement.
On his arrival back in town, the followingThursday morning, Boyd was greeted by the news that Roland Gibbs had packed upand gone. All manner of rumours had abounded about themystery couple, such as her being an heiress w