“We’re nearly there now, sir. The ground containing the cottages abuts the boundary of Sexton Abbey. I discovered that our victim clashed with Clifton Wells about a right-of-way when Sexton council, which owned a strip of land that runs along the north bank of the Thames at the bottom of their gardens, attempted to build a footpath from Abbey Bridge Road to Sexton Abbey, where it was to link with an existing footpath in the abbey grounds. To achieve this, the council needed to place an entrance gate on the boundary of number seventy-six and Abbey Bridge Road, but Wells objected and placed a fence along the boundary, preventing access. There was no dispute that the footpath would have crossed Wells’ land, but the council believed there to be a right-of-way. Supported by Bayford, acting for the Ramblers’ Association, it produced local maps, dating from between 1860 and 1920, which showed a right-of-way on the north bank. Wells countered with maps showing the right-of-way on the south bank. He claimed that there were no maps showing two rights-of-way and that all maps dated after 1920, when the towing path on the south bank was built, showed the right-of-way going along that towing path. Wells’ winning case was that the building of the towing path, and subsequent custom and practice, had established the only right-of-way on the south bank. Costs were awarded against the Council and the Ramblers’ Association, but Wells stated that he would waive his right to them if the joint plaintiffs agreed not to appeal. Bayford described Wells’ offer as generous and accepted it ‘in the spirit in which it was made’. The council declared that it was abandoning the land, which was then claimed, as extensions to their rear gardens, by the cottage owners.”
Francesca showed them into the single reception room of number eighty-four. The rear window looked out over a long garden that stretched down to the river. Beyond a terrace and small lawn it was laid out to vegetables and soft fruits.
“That garden must be well over one hundred feet long, but I wonder how long it is at high tide”
“The same length, sergeant”, Graves observed. “The Thames tide only reaches as far as Teddington, which is way down the river from here, so the residents would have those garden lengths all the time. I would say that was nearer two hundred feet each.”
Phillips looked at the photographs on the mantelpiece. The first he guessed was Francesca and Horace at their wedding and the second of Horace, looking much older and in poor health. The third photograph, of a baby, looked more recent.
“Your grandchild?” Phillips asked, pointing to the third photograph.
“No, that is Paul, Eloise’s son. I look after him when she goes to work. He’s great fun, but a bit of a handful. Eloise is going to have her work cut out when the second one comes along.”
“That’s the Deeds, next door, yes?” When Francesca nodded, Graves interrupted.
“You did not say anything about David”.
“Very observant of you, inspector and that is because Paul is not David’s son. I took him for a blood test once and got chatting with the staff. When I told them about my experiences in Africa they let me go along to the lab to get the results. It was one of those tests where blood samples from all the family are checked, so the laboratory also had samples from Eloise and David. They were both group A, so the analyst expected to get an A result for Paul as well. However, they discovered that Paul is group O, so David cannot be his father.”
“Is there anything else that you can tell me about the Deeds?”
“They had a furious row before they came out last night. I could not make out what it was about, but could hear the shouting through the walls.”
“Is this your husband?” Phillips asked, pointing to the photograph of the second photograph.
“Yes, bless him, Horace died of cancer four years ago. He contracted it after the accident at the research centre. He was treated for radiation poisoning after an explosion in the radiochemical laboratory. He never went back to work after that.”
“So you live here alone, then. That garden must take up a lot of your time?”
“Only from sitting in it to read, sergeant. My old bones and arthritic hand could not cope with that lot. David manages it as his way of thanking me for looking after Paul. He likes to grow berries and vegetables, so he cultivates the two gardens together and gives me whatever I need. Eloise also takes me shopping or brings in things for me, so I am well looked after. I do not know what I would do if they moved. I guess that I would have to buy a flat nearer the centre of Oxford.”
“Tell me about this research centre and the accident”, Graves demanded as they walked back down the front path.
“It’s on the outskirts of Sexton, sir. Although it is billed as an agricultural research centre, we know that it undertakes secret government research. David Deeds works there and, as we know, so did Bayford. The explosion killed Frederick Chatsworth and Alan Frobisher, who were working late. Two others, Jean Chatsworth, Frederick’s wife who was waiting in reception for him and Horace Freeman were treated for the affects of radiation.”
“Chatsworth… would they be the parents of Andrea Chatsworth?”
“Yes, she inherited number eighty when her mother died of throat cancer two months ago. She is now resident in Liverpool, but has returned to Sexton to deal with her mother’s estate.”
“What do we know about Andrea?”
“She is a researcher at Liverpool University. She moved to Sexton when her father got his job at the research centre. She had vacation jobs there between 1987 and 1990.”