[Inspector de Silva 09] - High Wire in Nuala

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[Inspector de Silva 09] - High Wire in Nuala Page 9

by Harriet Steel


  Nadia had not seemed particularly concerned over Izabella’s situation. The story didn’t ring true, but de Silva played along with it.

  ‘Please assure her that Miss Rabach is being well treated. Indeed, she seems to accept that for the moment, she is better off where she is.’

  Boris raised an eyebrow. ‘I tell Nadia; if she speak to me again.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘You have more questions?’

  ‘Not for the present. Thank you for your time.’

  **

  Outside, de Silva debated going to look for Prasanna and Gordo but decided against it. It would do his sergeant good to take charge of the inquiries. Instead, he went to find out if the undertakers had been to collect Alexei’s and Tatiana’s bodies. He decided they must have done so, because the tent where they had been the previous night was deserted.

  Afterwards, he strolled away from the tented area and over the track towards the racecourse buildings. As he walked, he mulled over what he had learnt. If Boris wasn’t telling the truth about spending time alone in his tent, he’d had the opportunity to kill Alexei and string up his body to look as if it had been suicide.

  Once more, he fell to thinking about Izabella. She was the most likely candidate for the role of Boris’s accomplice, both from the point of view of ability and of motive – a promise of Tatiana’s place in the act – but trapping her into a confession was going to be difficult. Even though their last encounter had been quite amicable, with her temperament that could change in a flash. He doubted she would give up any secrets in a hurry.

  At the parking area near the racecourse entrance, the spot where he had left the Morris was no longer in the shade, and it was broiling in the car. He decided to find somewhere cooler. Wandering towards the stables, he heard the sound of hammer on metal and followed it.

  Near the main barn, a brazier had been lit; the sulphurous smell of the glowing coals made de Silva’s nose prickle. Kumar was bent down by the back legs of one of the horses. He held up a hoof and was hammering on a new shoe, whistling as he did so. De Silva waited until he had finished before he called out to him. Kumar looked up; for a moment, de Silva thought he saw a guarded look in his eyes but then it vanished.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  De Silva shook his head. ‘I’m waiting for my sergeant. I was just looking for somewhere in the shade.’

  Kumar gestured to the barn. ‘It is cooler in there, and comfortable, if you will sit on a bale of straw.’

  De Silva grinned. ‘I’ve sat on worse.’

  Kumar chuckled.

  De Silva followed him as he led the horse into the barn. He slapped it on the rump, and it ambled off. ‘Horseshoes wear down quickly on your roads,’ he remarked as it started to pull straw from a nearby net. ‘The horses often need new ones.’

  ‘Lucky for the circus that you inherited your father’s skills.’

  ‘Ah, you have a good memory. Yes, it was useful that I was able to help Alexei.’ He sighed. ‘I don’t know what Boris will do with the horses. Maybe he’ll sell them. I can help the other riders to look after them for now, but the act won’t be the same without Alexei.’

  ‘It would be a shame if they have to be sold. I’m sure your audiences enjoy seeing them.’

  ‘They do, but there’s a lot of work. Unless Boris finds someone like Alexei to take charge, it will be hard. Now, please excuse me. The rest of the horses need to be brought in before it gets dark.’

  De Silva followed him out of the barn, and they parted company. He returned to the Morris and waited in the swiftly gathering dusk until Prasanna came hurrying into the parking area. ‘I’m sorry to have kept you waiting for so long, sir.’

  ‘How did you get on?’

  ‘Slowly, I’m afraid. I’ve not spoken to all the people I’d hoped to yet. Gordo talks a lot, and he likes to joke with everyone. It was hard to make him hurry.’

  ‘Did he give you his opinion on the case?’

  ‘Yes, sir. He believes that Alexei committed suicide. When I suggested that Tatiana’s fall might not be an accident, he asked if you thought Izabella had a hand in it. He said she didn’t like Tatiana, but he didn’t know. The idea of her being close to Alexei or Boris just made him laugh.’

  Prasanna frowned. ‘Oddly, he didn’t seem worried about Alexei’s death, or Tatiana’s. In fact, he said it might be a good thing for the circus in the long run, because they were always quarrelling. Boris and Alexei often argued too, although they usually made it up afterwards. He said that if Boris can find new people who are less trouble everyone will be happier.’

  ‘Did he have anything else to say about Boris?’

  ‘He hinted that Boris once had a drinking problem. It made him bad-tempered and affected his work.’

  ‘I see. Well, what did you find out from other people?’

  ‘Everyone we spoke to confirmed what Izabella told you about her morning, apart from the time she was going for a walk alone, when no one saw her. She hadn’t stayed long to eat her lunch. A lot of people saw Tatiana. She checked the equipment and spent time talking to other performers. She ate lunch with them then went to her tent to get ready for the show.’

  ‘And Alexei?’

  ‘No one mentioned seeing him.’

  ‘Boris?’

  ‘Plenty of people vouched for the fact he was working in the main tent for the first few hours of the morning, but after that no one saw him.’

  ‘Did anyone think it was odd?’

  ‘No. Unless there are any problems to attend to, he usually choses to be on his own for a few hours before a performance.’

  ‘Hmm. That accords with what he told me. Anything else of interest?’

  ‘No, sir, except that we passed the tent belonging to the snake charmer, Kumar. It’s where he keeps his snakes.’

  De Silva would have described that experience as alarming rather than interesting.

  ‘He wasn’t there, so Gordo took me inside for a quick look. I hadn’t expected there to be so many, sir; far more than we saw in the act. Some are extremely beautiful.’

  His skin crawling at the image of a writhing mass of sibilant reptilian life, de Silva hastily opened the driver’s door. ‘Jump in; it’s time we got back to town. We’ll have to come up here later for you to finish your inquiries.’

  **

  He dropped Prasanna at his house before going on to the police station. It would do Nadar no harm to remain on guard duty for a bit longer. To his surprise, the constable was not as downcast at the news as he had expected.

  ‘Now the lady is quiet, sir,’ he said with a grin, ‘it is more peaceful here than at home.’

  De Silva chuckled. ‘I’m glad to hear there’s some advantage. Has there been any news from Hatton about this burglary while I’ve been out?’

  ‘No, sir.’ Nadar hesitated.

  ‘What is it, Constable?’

  ‘If you are staying for a while, sir, may I go to find something to eat? I did not like to leave the lady alone.’

  ‘Of course. You had better fetch food for her as well.’ De Silva reached into his pocket for some money. ‘Here, take this. Oh, and whilst you’re about it, I want a note delivered to Doctor Hebden’s surgery. It’s on my desk.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  While Nadar was gone, there was no sound from the cells. De Silva didn’t risk going to investigate. At the moment, there was nothing more he had to say to Izabella Rabach; best to let sleeping dogs lie. Although, he mused gloomily, her cooperative mood was not guaranteed to last. If she insisted on leaving, his choice would fall between charging her, which might necessitate arresting Boris too, or letting her go. Neither prospect was appealing.

  Nadar returned with enough food to feed a small army. De Silva smelled enticing aromas of coriander, cumin, and cardamom coming from the tin containers. Lightly charred naan bread, shining with ghee, poked out from the top of a brown paper bag. If his charge continued to cause no trouble, the night that stretched bef
ore Nadar might be relatively pleasant. He left him to it and drove home.

  **

  Ensconced in his favourite chair in the drawing room, with Bella on his lap and a whisky at his elbow, life seemed much improved, although he wondered why Jane seemed rather distant as he recounted the details of his conversation with Archie.

  ‘Have I done something wrong?’ he asked eventually.

  ‘Nothing at all. Why do you ask?’

  De Silva regarded her shrewdly. ‘Because I know that expression.’

  ‘Well, if you must know, at church everyone was talking about this burglary on Friday at the de Vere plantation. I was surprised you hadn’t mentioned it to me.’

  ‘Ah, that’s what it is. I hadn’t mentioned it, my love, because I only heard about it from Archie this morning. I went to the station to question Izabella Rabach after that, and then up to the circus. I’m sorry if you thought I was hiding something from you.’

  She smiled. ‘I forgive you.’

  ‘I spoke to Singh, and luckily, he doesn’t appear to need any backup. I’ve enough on my plate at the moment.’

  ‘I know you have, dear,’ said Jane. ‘I’m sorry I doubted you. How did you get on at the circus?’

  ‘I wanted Prasanna to find out about our suspects’ movements yesterday morning and pick up any other information that might be useful, so I sent him off with one of the clowns, a man called Gordo, to interpret for him. Gordo speaks a reasonable amount of English, and I was warned that most of the circus people only speak Russian. Prasanna didn’t manage to talk to everyone, so I’ll have to take him up there again, but so far he has established that Tatiana was about the place as usual, but no one saw Boris after the first few hours. After she made her check at twelve o’clock, Izabella spent a short time eating lunch then went off on her own. Alexei wasn’t in evidence at all. That means that the only person who had any idea where he was yesterday was Kumar, when he helped him with the horses first thing. Also, the main tent was probably deserted at lunchtime.’

  ‘So, if it wasn’t suicide, there were several hours during which Boris might have killed his brother, and while the main tent was deserted, and she claimed to have gone for a walk, Izabella could have tampered with the wire unnoticed.’

  ‘Yes. Prasanna asked Gordo if he thought she was close to either Alexei or Boris, but the idea only seemed to amuse him. That doesn’t mean we should discount it yet, of course. Gordo also mentioned that Alexei and Boris often argued, as did Alexei and Tatiana. When I went to Boris’s tent to talk to him he was with Nadia, the wardrobe mistress. The two of them were quarrelling over something, but I didn’t understand what they were saying. She was obviously still angry when she left.’

  ‘Did you mention it when you talked to him?’

  ‘Yes. He passed it off as being due to her sorrow over Tatiana and Alexei’s deaths. Nothing he did was right. There was also something about him not doing enough to help Izabella, but that seemed odd. When I spoke to Nadia about Izabella, she didn’t appear to be particularly anxious about her fate. Like Nadia, Boris said that he was sure Alexei had committed suicide because of his difficulties with Tatiana. But unlike her, he hotly denied Alexei would have done anything to harm her beforehand.’

  ‘How did he explain the grease on the wire then?’

  ‘He suggested it might be Izabella after all, or one of his people had made a mistake and was lying about it.’

  He drank some of his whisky. ‘You know, I still regret missing David Hebden. I should have asked him sooner to come back to examine the body.’

  ‘I’m not sure that it would have made a difference,’ said Jane consolingly. ‘You often say he’s not able to be very precise about a time of death.’

  ‘But it might have helped to remove some uncertainty.’

  Bella rearranged herself in his lap and he stroked her. She purred contentedly.

  Jane glanced around the room. ‘Goodness, where’s Billy?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘I’ll take a look outside. I hope he hasn’t wandered away.’ She patted Bella’s sleek head. ‘It’s just as well you don’t have the same adventurous streak as your brother.’

  On the verandah, she found Billy crouched flat on the wooden floor, his green eyes intently scanning a shadowy corner. ‘He’s spotted something,’ Jane called back. ‘I hope it’s not a mouse.’

  De Silva yawned. ‘I’ll come and see.’

  As he stood up, Bella jumped from his lap then trotted out to the verandah. There was a flicker in the shadows; Billy pounced and missed. A lizard darted down the steps to the garden and into the safety of a flowerbed.

  De Silva scratched Billy behind the ears. ‘Better luck next time, young man. But I’d prefer it if you would concentrate your efforts on any rats and mice that may be around. Lizards perform a useful function.’

  ‘Inside now, both of you,’ said Jane.

  Billy scooted through the door to the drawing room, Bella following at a more leisurely pace.

  ‘The Applebys were at church today, and George asked me about these two,’ said Jane. ‘He recommended we have them neutered if we’re not planning to breed from them. At least have Billy done as it’s a straightforward operation.’

  Involuntarily, de Silva winced.

  ‘He said that it makes male cats less inclined to stray, which may be a good thing with Billy. What do you think?’

  ‘I suppose we should take his advice, at least about Billy. After all, he is the government veterinary advisor.’

  ‘And Bella?’

  ‘I’d like to know more about the risks.’

  ‘I agree.’

  ‘Would George Appleby carry out the operation?’

  ‘He offered to. Emerald gave me his home number. I’ll give him a call.’

  ‘Fine.’

  After dinner, they listened to music on the gramophone, but de Silva’s thoughts kept straying to the case. Was he allowing his annoyance that he hadn’t called David Hebden back sooner to colour his judgment on whether Alexei’s suicide was genuine? He didn’t really have a lot to go on where Boris and Izabella were concerned.

  The last notes of Elgar’s Enigma Variations died away. It was a piece he had grown to love; by turns moving, lyrical, rousing, majestic, confident, and playful. To him, its popularity explained something about the nature of the British and the love of their country that their stiff upper lips concealed.

  ‘Would you like to listen to something else?’ asked Jane.

  ‘No, I think my head is filled with enough music for one night.’

  She smiled. ‘Elgar does have that effect. His music has so many lovely melodies.’ She looked at the clock. ‘You look tired, dear. I might read for a while, but why don’t you get to bed? I’ll try not to wake you when I come in.’

  He put Bella onto the floor. ‘Perhaps I will.’

  If he stayed up, he would only want to talk about the case and distract Jane, who had already picked up her book. He couldn’t see the cover, but it was sure to be a detective novel that she would enjoy all the more if it had a fiendishly complicated plot. Perhaps he ought to accept that wasn’t what he had on his hands in Nuala, and the case was the tragedy of a beautiful girl who had paid a terrible price for her thoughtless behaviour, and a young man who had let his passions get the better of him.

  In the bedroom, he opened the window a little to freshen the air and got ready for bed. He had been sure it would take him a long time to fall asleep, but as the soft, rustling sounds of nocturnal animals and insects drifted from the garden and a light breeze stirred the curtains, thoughts of the case faded. Drowsily, he heard an owl hoot in the garden. By the time Jane came to bed, he was sound asleep.

  Chapter 7

  The next morning, he collected Prasanna and they drove back up to the racecourse. When they went to find Gordo, de Silva was pleased to see that Boris was in the circus ring watching the dance group. He had been thinking on the way up that if there was an opportunit
y to search his and Alexei’s tents, it was something he ought to get on with.

  ‘They practise new act,’ said Gordo. ‘When we move on, there will be more dancing in show until boss find new people to take place of Alexei Ivanovich and Tatiana Petrovna.’

  So, Boris didn’t plan to offer Tatiana’s starring role to Izabella.

  Leaving Prasanna and Gordo to carry on with questioning the rest of the circus people, he went quietly to Boris’s tent. Urbane as he was in his ringmaster’s costume, Boris’s taste in furnishings was spartan. In a screened-off area that de Silva had not seen into on his previous visit, he found an unmade camp bed, a chair, and a few clothes on a rail with a row of shoes underneath. There were also an empty trunk and another smaller one containing account ledgers, circus posters, handbills, programmes, and books of tickets. Beneath it all, he found a cloth bag containing a document sealed with red wax. The paper crackled as he smoothed it out.

  It was Ivan Goncharov’s will. Dated after the family had left Russia, fortunately, it was written in English. De Silva presumed that Goncharov had thought it would be a more useful language than Russian. He scanned the provisions before returning it to the bag. Nadia had been right; Ivan had left the circus to his sons in equal shares, with the proviso that they looked after Tatiana. If one of them wanted to leave, or died, the other would be entitled to the whole business. In the case of death, the survivor must provide for his brother’s widow and children, if any.

  Also in the bag was a packet of photographs. The first one he picked up was a grainy, sepia portrait of a stern-looking couple posed beside an aspidistra; the lady sat on a high-backed chair with the man standing behind her, one hand resting on her shoulder. De Silva assumed they were Ivan Goncharov and his wife. Other photographs were informal. They showed children who he guessed to be Boris, Alexei, and Tatiana. In some they played in a garden with a long, low house in the background; in others, they rode ponies.

  The only touch of luxury in the tent was a mahogany washstand. On its shelves were ranged an assortment of bottles and jars containing shampoo, rouge, lotions, and toilet water. There was soap scented with sandalwood, a tortoiseshell comb, a silver-backed brush, scissors for trimming hair or paring nails, polish and brushes for shining shoes, and stiff brushes for clothes.

 

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