Meanwhile, back at the Wonderland, in less than ten minutes after it had opened up for the day, Nick suddenly left his chalet and ran across the grounds of Pentrillick House and disappeared from view.
“Where’s he off to,” said Ginger, opening up a new box of scented candles to put on display, “can’t be the loo because he didn’t ask us to look after his stuff.”
Shelley stepped outside and looked to her left. “Weird! Look, he’s locked up as well and put ‘closed’ on the door.”
Ten minutes later he re-appeared with his white transit van.
“Everything alright?” Shelley asked, as he jumped from the van and unlocked the doors of his chalet.
Nick shook his head. “Afraid not. My old man just rang. Me mum’s had a fall and so I have to go and see her.”
“Oh dear, I am sorry. So are you taking all your stuff with you?” Shelley asked, as he grabbed clothing and bundled it into the back of his van.
“Yeah, it’s unlikely I’ll be back before this all winds up, you see. So I’ve got to take it with me.” He paused for breath. “Care to give us a hand?”
“Of course,” said Shelley. “Do you want it done in any particular order?”
“No, just bung it in as it comes. The van’s clean inside and I’ll sort it later.”
“So have you told Steve you’re going?” Ginger asked. “I mean, he’ll wonder where you are if you just suddenly disappear.”
“Yeah, I have. I had to grab my things from his caravan, you see. I didn’t have time to chat much though because he had several customers.” Nick paused and pulled three twenty pound notes from his wallet. “When you next see him, please give him these. I owe him twenty for rent and the rest can be for a drink on me.”
“Of course,” said Ginger, as she tucked the money inside a pocket of her jeans. “I’ll make sure he gets it before the day is out.”
Jeremy and Jemima Liddicott-Treen, with time on their hands until their mother was ready to take them shopping for new shoes, wandered through the attractions in the fairground where they rode in the swing boats and bought toffee apples. After four goes each on the helter-skelter, Jeremy challenged Jemima to see who would be the most successful when it came to testing their strength. Jemima accepted the challenge for as a keen gymnast she knew that the muscles in her arms were strong.
As they made their way towards Steve and his apparatus, they heard the shrill sound of the bell on his striker.
“Someone’s done it,” said Jeremy, “I often hear the bell though so it can’t be too difficult.”
“Good morning,” said Steve, as he saw the young siblings approaching. But Jeremy was too shocked to reply for Steve was wearing the black leather gloves.
“Good morning,” said Jemima, brightly.
Conscious that her brother had not returned the greeting she elbowed him in the ribs.
“What, oh yes, good morning, Steve,” Jeremy muttered, “I see you wearing gloves today. You must be feeling the cold.”
“No not at all, young sir. It’s just I cut my hand yesterday and so I’m wearing the gloves to make sure the plaster doesn’t come unstuck. Plasters don’t seem to stick like they did when I were a kid. I remember me mum having to rip them off my legs when I’d been in the wars and it damn well hurt.”
“Oh, I see, very wise. Wearing gloves that is.” Jeremy wanted to ask questions but realised he had none of his detective heroes’ skills when it came to gleaning information. However, Steve inadvertently divulged the information he sought without him having to utter a word.
“It’s really good of Nick to let me keep them as it’s a lot colder up-country than it is down here so he might wish he’d kept them once he gets up there.”
“Nick, up what, where?” Jeremy tried to make sense of what Steve had said.
“Yeah, these are Nick’s gloves, they’re really nice and must have cost a fair bit.” Steve chuckled. “He’s lucky to have them both though because he lost one a while back but fortunately Patricia found it when out walking Tyronne.”
“Oh,” was all Jeremy could say.
“Never mind about who found the silly glove,” said Jemima, the expression on her face looking anything but happy, “what’s this about Nick going up-country?”
“He’s got to go home because his mum’s in hospital.” Steve looked concerned.
Jemima squealed and stamped her feet. “No, but I haven’t had time to persuade Mum to buy me the dress I like yet. It’s a gorgeous Mimi Monfils and I wanted it to wear for Christmas.”
But Jeremy couldn’t speak. Too many thoughts were rattling round in his head.
Inside the police station, the two officers who had visited Sid, believed, after they had been in touch with their colleagues across the Channel, that they had sufficient evidence to question Nick Roberts regarding his possible involvement in the theft of goods which were stolen from a Paris warehouse back in the summer. Indeed their investigations revealed that several men were already serving time in a French prison for said crime but the stolen garments had never been traced and recovered. However, while there was no evidence to suggest that Nick Roberts was involved with the actual theft, there was more than enough evidence to suggest that he was in possession of stolen goods with the sole intent of selling them to the unsuspecting public.
Nick had already left the grounds of Pentrillick House when the police arrived with a list of the stolen garments and so were unable to examine his stock. When Shelley and Ginger told the officers that he had gone home because his mother had taken a fall, they suspected that he knew that they were onto him and had therefore gone on the run.
“Any idea where his mother lives?” The taller of the two officers asked going along with Nick’s story.
Shelley and Ginger both shrugged their shoulders. “Sorry, haven’t the foggiest,” said Shelley, “and I never thought to ask.”
Having made sure that he was able to hear all that was being said, Jack, who sold garden ornaments and made miniature wheelbarrows, called out from his nearby chalet. “He told me a while back that his parents were both dead. I remember it clearly. His dad died when he was a teenager and his mum passed away just last year.”
“Hmm, that doesn’t surprise me,” said the police officer, as the second officer opened up a notebook.
“Why do you want to talk to Nick?” Ginger asked.
“At this stage I can’t say.” The police officer glanced around at the ever increasing crowd, “Right, can anybody here give me a good description of the vehicle Mr Roberts drives and if possible the registration number.”
“I can,” said Jeremy Liddicott-Treen, who along with his sister had arrived breathlessly after hearing the police siren. He then proceeded to give the make, the model and the full registration number of Nick’s van.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The screeching of brakes on the forecourt of his garage brought Vince out from his workshop to see who was responsible for the noise. From a white transit van, Nick from Wonderland jumped out his face red and his hands trembling as he reached for the pump hose. As Vince wiped his hands on an oily cloth he watched as Nick filled up the vehicle, ran inside the shop to pay for the fuel and then drove off as quickly as he’d arrived.
Vince tutted and then returned to the workshop.
With his tank filled up with petrol, Nick drove through the village and headed back in the direction of Pentrillick House. Half a mile before the main entrance, he pulled into the gateway of a field, jumped down from his van and without bothering to lock the doors climbed over the five bar gate and into the field where daffodils were just coming into bloom. Not wanting to be seen crushing the flowers, he ran along the edge of the field where he was hidden from the road by an overgrown hedge. In the valley at the bottom, he paused to catch his breath and then leapt across a stream and ventured into the back of the woodland area which ran behind the lake in the grounds of Pentrillick House.
In the adventure playground, a group of chi
ldren were surprised to see a man appear from inside the woods. He said nothing and didn’t look in their direction but they watched silently as he furtively walked towards a large conifer tree. After quickly glancing across the lake and up into the area where Wonderland bustled with people, he pushed his hand into a neatly concealed crevice in the tree’s decrepit trunk and from it he pulled out a small bag. With haste he opened the bag and took out something bright and shiny which he slipped onto his wrist. The bag he screwed up and tossed to the ground amongst dried pine needles. He then ran back through the trees and disappeared from view.
Lottie was feeling very pleased with herself. With Hetty by her side she had just driven all the way to Helston and back along the main road. However, as she turned into the lane which led down into Pentrillick she became a little more uptight for the road was narrow and in places it was not wide enough for two vehicles to pass by one another.
Back in his van Nick looked at his phone to see if there was a route out of Cornwall along country lanes for he was keen to avoid all main roads. To his dismay, he realised that for the first part of his journey he would have to travel along the A394 for several miles. Tossing his phone on the passenger seat, he started up the van’s engine and then proceeded towards the quiet lane which led up from Pentrillick to the main road.
Lottie meanwhile found it hard to concentrate for she was distracted by a police helicopter flying low overhead and zig-zagging close to the lane.
“Never mind about the helicopter, keep your eyes on the road,” said Hetty, aware of her sister’s erratic steering, “or we’ll end up in the ditch.”
Conscious that she was over-heating and her hands were shaking, Lottie focused on the winding road ahead but as she approached a particularly narrow stretch of the lane, a white van came flying around the corner travelling much too fast. Lottie screamed, slammed on the brakes, stalled the engine and blocked the road.
The van driver shook his fists in anger.
“It’s Nick,” said Hetty, dumbfounded, as he jumped from the driver’s seat of the van, “but where on earth is he going? He should be at Wonderland today.”
As Nick left the van and scrambled over a large metal gate, a police car pulled up behind Hetty and Lottie’s car and at the same time another police car stopped behind Nick’s van.
“What the…?” said Hetty, as the helicopter hovered over the field into which Nick had run. Two police officers jumped from each car, leapt over the gate and gave chase.
In the field, a strong wind caused by the helicopter blades stopped Nick in his tracks. He raised his hands and put them over his face as protection against the dust, dry earth and stubble.
Desperate to see what was happening, Hetty and Lottie sprang from the car just in time to see the first two police officers grab Nick from behind, pull him to the ground and snap handcuffs around his wrists behind his back. As one of the officers waved to the helicopter it turned around and then disappeared from view. Meanwhile, back in the lane, two more police cars arrived.
Misty Merryweather looked a sad figure as she sat in the Crown and Anchor on Thursday evening with Shelley and Ginger. The death of her illegal husband, the kidnapping of his real wife, Aimée, and the discovery that her old friend Finn was responsible for said kidnapping had destroyed her faith in human nature. She felt there was no-one in whom she could put her trust as the tears in her red eyes seemed to emphasise.
“So, what exactly happened today?” Tommy, who had just arrived at the pub, asked Bernie the Boatman, after he had bought a pint. “I heard someone had been arrested for selling stolen goods, but know no more than that.”
Bernie nodded to a table by the fire where sat Hetty and Lottie. “Let’s go and sit by the sisters as they were in on some of the action.”
“I might have known,” said Tommy, with a chuckle.
“Poor Misty,” said Hetty, as the two men sat down, “poor Aimée too. What a terrible time they’ve both had.”
“It’s been a shock to all of us,” said Lottie, who had an extra-large glass of wine, “and I think it will be a while before I feel confident enough to drive again.”
“So, what exactly happened today?” Tommy asked.
Hetty, with Lottie’s help told of the outcome of the afternoon’s driving lesson.
“So, you mean to tell me that the cops sent out a helicopter just to catch a bloke who was selling stolen goods? What a waste of money.” Tommy was shocked.
“It appears so,” said Hetty.
“No, no, there’s more to it than that,” said Bernie, removing his cap due to the heat of the fire. “You see, it’s not just because Nick was selling stolen goods that he was arrested. It was because he’s the bloke who murdered poor old Simeon Dupont.”
“What!” All three uttered the same word in response to Bernie’s brief statement.
“So, how come? I mean, why?” Tommy asked.
“Well, we assume Simeon recognised some of the dresses that Nick was selling and knew that they’d been stolen. And if that were the case and Simeon approached Nick then it wouldn’t have gone down too well, would it? I mean, we know that Simeon drank red wine and vodka on the night he died and it’s now assumed that Nick was the mystery person with whom he was drinking and that he laced Simeon’s wine with vodka. Simeon certainly wouldn’t have done it himself because he didn’t like the stuff.”
“And then you reckon that Nick followed Simeon back to the café and drowned him in the lake knowing he was too drunk to put up a fight.” Tommy looked shocked.
“That’s the theory, yes.”
Hetty shook her head. “No, I don’t believe a word of it. I liked Nick. He was a bit rough but he was a nice bloke and always most courteous.”
“Yes, it does seem odd,” Lottie agreed, “I mean, if Nick and Simeon had fallen out as you suggest then it seems unlikely that Simeon would have agreed to go drinking with Nick especially in the maze of all places. And what did they drink out of? Obviously not the bottles because the police would have checked them for DNA so they must have had glasses and so where are they?”
“That’s a good point and yes, they must have had glasses for Nick to have slipped vodka into Simeon’s wine. But they could be anywhere. There are rubbish bins all over Wonderland which are emptied several times each day and the police had no reason to search them when Simeon was found in the lake because it appeared to be an accident.”
Lottie nodded. “Yes, and of course the glasses would have had traces of Nick’s DNA, so he knew they had to be disposed of.”
“Exactly,” said Bernie, “whereas there was nothing to link the bottles to Nick so he shoved them in the most convenient place.”
“I still don’t think he did it.” Hetty was po-faced.
Bernie folded his arms. “Well, whether you like it or not he is guilty because I’ve been told by a very reliable source that he has confessed.”
“He’s confessed.” Hetty was flabbergasted.
“Who said?” Lottie asked.
“I can’t say, but I can tell you that Arnold is the one who holds the key. You know Arnold, don’t you, Tom?”
Tommy nodded. “You mean the chap who works up at the big house?”
“That’s the one, Arnold Pascoe. Been a groundsman up at Pentrillick House for goodness knows how many years.”
Tommy looked confused. “But Arnold’s not here. He and his missus are away on holiday. Gone for a cruise if I remember correctly.”
“That’s right but they got home early this morning. It were a bit of a shock for them when they heard what had been going on because of course they knew nothing about it as neither he nor his wife have mobile phones and so they would have been completely in the dark. But as it turns out Arnold knows the answers to quite a few of the questions that have puzzled us for a while.” Bernie paused and shook his head as a strand of tinsel fell onto him from one of the beams above.
“Carry on,” said Lottie, grabbing the tinsel, “we’re all ears.”
“Right, well Arnold went off for his holiday on December the third which I believe was a Saturday.”
“It was,” said Hetty, “because we moved down here the day before on Friday, December the second.”
“Good, anyway, Wonderland opened a week before Arnold went away and so whenever he could he chatted to a few of the folks who were selling their wares and the fair people too but it was Nick that he got on best with. You see, Arnold and Nick were both fascinated with the maze and so one morning before Wonderland opened up for the day, Arnold showed Nick a clever way to find the exit. It was something he’d worked out which I’m told is quite logical if you’re in the know. Apparently Nick was fascinated and said that if the opportunity ever arose he’d get someone to go into the maze with him, they’d both have a few drinks and then they’d see who could find their way out first. They’d do it at night time too, with only the moonlight and maybe a torch to help find the way out. Apparently Arnold thought that was hilarious.”
“And you think that’s what Nick did? He challenged Simeon to do that on the night that he died?” Tommy half-heartedly took a sip of beer.
“Most likely. Anyway, that’s not all. Because they got on so well, Arnold and his wife invited Nick over for dinner one night and with him he took a bottle of vodka. After their meal, Arnold joined Nick in a few glasses but Deidre, Arnold’s wife, said she couldn’t face drinking it and she told Nick how when she was younger a friend of hers had put vodka in her wine. She said the wine tasted much the same and so she drank her usual three glasses. By the end of the third though she was legless and remembers nothing more of that evening. She well remembers the next day though and said she’s never been so ill in her life.”
Lottie’s face was pale. “So you think Nick enticed Simeon into the maze for a drink and the challenge of finding his way out, and then laced his wine with vodka to get him drunk? The sole purpose being murder?”
“Well, yes, after all his livelihood was at stake and as we all agree, Nick was a charmer and so probably got round Simeon with some rigmarole or another,” Bernie sighed. “It’s almost the perfect crime.”
A Pasty In A Pear Tree Page 16