At the station, Sergeant Prasanna greeted him with a triumphant smile. ‘Nadar and I’ve had some luck, sir. A dozen or more shops have sold pitta tea recently. When we described Mr Renshaw and Mr Tagore, none of the proprietors recognised them, but one did remember serving a man who answers to Mr Leung’s description.’
‘Prasanna, I could kiss you. Come along, we’re going to the Crown Hotel.’
**
Heads turned and conversations died as they walked across the Crown’s grand lobby. De Silva strode to the reception desk and asked for David Leung.
‘I’m not sure where he is, Inspector,’ the receptionist said nervously. ‘Perhaps you’d like to see the manager?’
‘Stay here and keep an eye on the door,’ de Silva muttered to Prasanna.
He was at the door of the manager’s office when he heard running feet behind him. ‘He’s leaving, sir,’ Prasanna gasped. ‘I tried to stop him but he ran.’
They dashed back to the foyer in time to see Leung hurtle down the steps outside the hotel. Sweeping aside astonished guests, they raced after him.
‘Where’s he gone? Can you spot him, Prasanna?’
There was the roar of a powerful engine and they had to jump aside to avoid being knocked down by the Daimler.
‘Quickly! To the car!’
De Silva reversed the Morris out of its parking place and jammed his foot on the accelerator. ‘Hold tight, Sergeant! You’re in for the ride of your life.’
The Daimler swerved through Nuala’s busy streets like a bull on the rampage. De Silva needed all his concentration to keep up and avoid the pedestrians, rickshaws, bullock carts and carriages that stood in his way. Dogs, monkeys and chickens scattered in a tempest of barking, chattering and screeching. His heart thumped. The Daimler’s engine was more powerful than the Morris’s. Once they cleared town, Leung would probably be able to outrun him. If he was to have a chance of catching up, he must stay close now.
Prasanna yelped as de Silva wrenched the wheel across and veered into a side street to take a short cut. They were lucky; the alley was quiet. The Morris emerged several hundred yards later with a much narrower gap than before between it and the Daimler. Moisture streamed from de Silva’s eyes and hot wind stung his cheeks as they cleared town and headed toward the lake. ‘Come on, come on,’ he muttered under his breath.
Prasanna gripped the side of the car. ‘Sir, what if the…’
The Morris sped into a bend. As it swung out of it, Prasanna’s voice rose to a shout. ‘Look out, sir!’
De Silva slammed on the brakes and the car left the road and ricocheted over the grass. In the eternity before they came to a halt, every bone in de Silva’s body seemed to grate against its neighbour. Then there was a moment of stillness, broken only by a ringing in his ears that gave him the sensation there was a long distance between him and the world. He felt for his heartbeat and found to his relief that it was still there. He heard Prasanna shift in his seat.
‘Are you alright, Sergeant?’
‘Yes, sir.’
A faint mist rolled from the bonnet into the front seats, making them both splutter. De Silva looked over his shoulder and saw the small herd of shaggy brown ponies, drowsing and flicking their tails in the middle of the road, sublimely unconcerned by the trouble they had caused.
Two sets of skid marks had cut deep grooves across the grass. One set ended at the Morris, the other at a coconut stall by the lakeshore. The owner was jumping up and down, gesticulating and shouting imprecations at the black Daimler that had careered on and come to rest a few yards into the lake. The water lapped at its front wheels; steam from its radiator drifted gently into the sky. Children ran to snatch the coconuts bobbing in the water.
De Silva and Prasanna leapt out of the Morris and raced to the driver’s side of Leung’s car. He was slumped over the wheel, but at their approach, he jerked upright and made a lunge for the passenger door. Gasping for breath, De Silva put on a spurt and seized him by the collar of his immaculate jacket.
‘Oh no you don’t! David Leung, I’m arresting you for the murder of Charles Renshaw.’
Chapter 21
De Silva settled down in the First Class carriage and prepared to enjoy the journey up to Nanu Oya. His two days in Colombo had been very satisfactory. Leung had stood trial for Renshaw’s murder and was now safely locked up in Colombo’s high security gaol.
De Silva’s old friend and colleague in the Colombo police force had unearthed the names of the men behind Asian Ventures, the company that was Renshaw’s principal creditor.
‘One of them is a man called Chiam See Tong,’ he said. ‘A Singapore Eurasian, better known to you as David Leung. Several others are suspected of having links to the Black Lotus gang.’
The Morris waited for him at Nanu Oya. As he drove the last few miles home, the afterglow of the setting sun was in the sky. Flocks of birds flying to their roosts made dark shapes against the fading red. He stood still for a moment in the drive at Sunnybank, listening to the geckos chirrup and smelling the perfume of his roses. Then he went inside.
Jane was in the drawing room, reading. She took off her spectacles and put the book in her lap. ‘I’m so glad you’re back, dear. I was beginning to worry. Was the train delayed?’
He bent down to kiss her cheek. ‘Yes, just outside Hatton. The driver and the guards had to stop for a herd of goats that had strayed onto the line.’
‘What a nuisance.’
She rang the small brass bell on the table at her elbow. ‘I’ll send for your whisky and soda, then you must tell me how it went. I want to know everything.’
He sank into his chair. ‘The trial went very well. The prosecuting counsel did a fine job and Leung confessed to the murder.’
‘Excellent.’
‘It turns out that he and Renshaw frequented many of the same gambling clubs in Colombo. Leung soon discovered that Renshaw was heavily in debt. He saw it as an opportunity to involve him in an extortion racket, one of the Black Lotus gang’s operations. An Englishman on the board of the company that fronted it was a useful smoke screen.’
One of the servants brought in his whisky and soda. He took a sip and sighed. ‘That’s better. Now, where was I?’
‘The extortion racket.’
‘Ah yes. Renshaw had the sense to step away from that one before he was in too deep. Eventually, he inherited the plantation and left Colombo. He tried to make a success of it, but as we know, the place had been neglected and it was in a bad state. He borrowed money, but soon his bank wasn’t so willing to lend.
‘When he read in the papers about the Black Lotus gang arrests, but didn’t see Leung’s name, he made a shrewd guess that Leung might have been an informer. There was a lot of talk about insider leaks in the papers. He also banked on it that, if he was right, there would be underworld figures still out there who might be very interested in knowing about Leung’s activities.’
He drank some more whisky before continuing. ‘Renshaw contacted Leung to find out how things stood. At first Leung denied having anything to do with the leak, but Renshaw didn’t give up. Leung lost his nerve and agreed to help him borrow money in return for keeping quiet.’
‘So Leung set up the loan from Asian Ventures?’
De Silva nodded. ‘He had an interest in the company and a pretty shady outfit it is. The Colombo force are convinced it has links to Black Lotus. For a while, Renshaw kept quiet and Leung thought he’d got away scot free. But it was never going to be as easy as that. It wasn’t long before Renshaw wanted more money. He was struggling to pay the interest on the loans he’d already taken out, and Leung said no chance – Asian Ventures would never agree – but Renshaw wasn’t prepared to take no for an answer. He told Leung he’d have to lend him money personally and get him out of the Asian Ventures debt.’
‘Gracious.’
‘That was when Leung decided Renshaw needed silencing – permanently. On the evening after the cricket match, he left Rensha
w at midnight as he claimed. What he didn’t admit to was that he came back and broke into the factory soon afterwards. He prepared the tea, put a lethal dose of cyanide in it and moved the hands of the office clock forward to fool Renshaw it was early morning. Then he woke Renshaw, pretended he’d come back to see if he was alright, and persuaded him to drink the tea. The poison worked almost instantly. All he had to do then was drag the body to the withering room and haul it into one of the tanks.’
‘It was clever of you to work out that Leung hadn’t really had a puncture and he’d lied about spending time changing his wheel on the way home.’
‘Thank you, my dear. Yes, he deliberately damaged his spare and took it to be mended at the garage to make a story about being delayed by a puncture convincing. He was lucky too that Hebden put the time of death when he did. That helped to make Leung’s story more credible. Of course, I’d never have guessed he was lying about the puncture if it hadn’t been for those bent spokes. Luckily, even he can make a mistake. I must have caught him off guard when I asked which tyre had punctured and he forgot them. If he’d remembered, he would have told me a different one and I’d have been none the wiser. But he did make another slip.’
‘What was that?’
‘He didn’t put the time on the clock right before he left the plantation. That was done later.’
‘Just an oversight?’
‘I imagine so. He must have been pretty weary by then. Renshaw was a big man to lift into that tank.’
‘I was always sure Mr Tagore’s name would be cleared,’ Jane said happily. ‘And I’m so glad that he and Madeleine have nothing standing in their way now.’
‘I suppose that’s true.’
‘Do they know everything that happened?’
‘Tagore was down in Colombo and he asked to meet me. We made our peace and I filled him in. I’ve left it to him what he tells Madeleine.’
De Silva thought briefly of the bloodstained shirt. He’d never mentioned it to Jane in case it upset her, and he wouldn’t now. Tagore had been red-faced when it turned out to be David Leung who had arranged for it to be sent to him anonymously to add drama to the information about Gooptu. A clever touch that Leung had rightly expected would strengthen the trail to the dismissed worker.
According to his confession, Leung was also aware of Renshaw’s jealousy over Tagore and that had been another reason for planting the shirt. He had anticipated that de Silva would find out about Tagore and Madeleine eventually and might suspect it was one or both of them who had plotted Renshaw’s murder. If de Silva also realised that the shirt was a fake, he might conclude that Tagore was using it to deflect attention from their crime.
As it turned out, shortly after Leung had been captured, Van Bruyn’s laboratory gave their opinion that the blood wasn’t even human. They’d passed the shirt to the government veterinary department who thought it might be from a rabbit. Although he had warmed to the young lawyer by then, de Silva had experienced considerable satisfaction in telling Tagore that and teaching him a lesson about being too trusting. Perhaps the charitable view was that love had clouded his judgement.
‘Why do you think David Leung stayed in Nuala? Wouldn’t it have been better to get as far away as possible?’ asked Jane.
De Silva shook his head. ‘He needed to make sure that Madeleine agreed to let him sell the plantation on her behalf, so he had to stay to keep up the pressure on her. The money Leung gave to Renshaw to keep him quiet was in fact stolen from Asian Ventures. The company had no idea it had gone, and Leung wanted to get it back into their bank as soon as possible with no questions asked.’
‘What do you think will happen to Leung?’
De Silva shrugged. ‘He’s offering the Colombo police more information in exchange for a pardon, but I doubt it will save him this time.’
Jane smiled. ‘I’m very proud of you, dear. I hope you know that.’
‘Thank you, my love.’
He squeezed her hand and chuckled. ‘Although I fear your Miss Marple would probably have solved the crime faster.’
‘Surely not.’
Chapter 22
It was a glorious afternoon for Florence Clutterbuck’s annual garden party. The sunshine sparkled on the trumpets and horns of the brass band she had hired for the occasion. In the Residence’s cool, spacious dining room, white-gloved servants dispensed tea, fruit punch, savouries and cakes.
Wherever the British went, de Silva mused, they had the knack of recreating a little corner of England. One day, they would leave and give Ceylon back to her people but for the moment, the tendency had a certain charm.
He and Jane strolled around the luxuriant garden, admiring the plants and chatting to friends and acquaintances. It seemed everyone wanted to congratulate him.
All at once, the brass band struck up a rousing tune and an anticipatory hush fell. ‘Look,’ said Jane. ‘The government agent and his wife are arriving. Florence was so thrilled they’ve come up from Kandy for the occasion.’
The official car bearing Mr William and Lady Caroline Petrie, a titled lady in her own right as the daughter of the Earl of Axford, glided to a halt. Archie in tow, Florence Clutterbuck hurried to greet the honoured guests and a polite murmur of clapping rippled over the lawn.
Florence began to shepherd the Petries around those favoured enough to have a few remarks bestowed on them. General conversation resumed, and de Silva saw Madeleine and Tagore coming in their direction.
Madeleine and Jane hugged. ‘Such wonderful news!’ Jane beamed. ‘Have you set the date yet?’
‘Yes, three weeks from tomorrow. The formalities will be at the Town Hall and then a small gathering at Ravi’s mother’s bungalow. We do so want you both to be with us. Please say you’ll come?’
Tagore shook de Silva’s hand. ‘I second that.’
‘In fact,’ Madeleine added, ‘I insist on it. We’re so grateful to you, aren’t we, Ravi? Jane for all her kindness and you, Inspector, for bringing us together.’
De Silva laughed. ‘In a roundabout way, I suppose I did.’
‘Will you stay on in Nuala afterwards?’ asked Jane.
‘Ravi needs to be back in Colombo for his work, but I hope we’ll be able to come back here often. We plan to keep Ravi’s mother’s bungalow on. I love it already.’
‘Will you sell the plantation?’
‘I’ll have to with all the debts that need settling, but I don’t care.’ She shivered. ‘I’ll be glad when it’s gone, and I can forget that horrible time.’
Happy barking made them all look round. Hamish’s new puppy was trying to persuade Darcy to play with him, but the older dog wasn’t showing any interest. Hamish scooped the puppy up and carried him over. ‘Hello, Mrs de Silva, would you like to meet Freddy?’
‘Very much. He’s gorgeous.’ The black Labrador puppy was quite an armful already, all dangling paws and melting-chocolate eyes. He nuzzled Jane’s outstretched hand with his damp nose.
‘They’ve got ice cream inside,’ Hamish said hopefully. ‘Can we go and have some, Mamma?’
‘Of course.’
They made their farewells and Jane and de Silva watched them walk away together in the direction of the house.
‘I’m so happy for them,’ she said. ‘I know they’ll have to weather a few storms, but we’ve always managed, haven’t we?’
He nodded. ‘And there’s a lot more steel behind that pretty face of Madeleine Renshaw’s than you might suppose.’
They noticed the Clutterbucks coming in their direction with the Petries. ‘Oh goodness,’ Jane whispered. ‘We must be on our best behaviour, Shanti.’
But the government agent and his lady had friendly smiles on their aristocratic faces. Florence made the introductions and they all shook hands. ‘Congratulations, Inspector,’ said William Petrie. ‘Gratifying to show the boys in Colombo that you can cut the mustard up here, eh?’
De Silva thanked him and after a few more moments of talk, the Petries moved
on. Another expression he’d not heard before, thought de Silva, but he understood the general drift.
‘What a lovely dress Lady Caroline’s wearing,’ Jane whispered. ‘And those diamonds! They must be worth a fortune.’
‘I’d buy you even bigger ones if I could.’
She tucked her arm into his. ‘That’s very sweet but I’m perfectly content without them.’
‘Thank you, my love. You know, if Ravindra Tagore is half as happy as I am, he’ll be a very lucky man.’
‘And if Madeleine is half as happy as me, she’ll be very lucky too.’
**
Dark Clouds Over Nuala
An Inspector de Silva Mystery
Harriet Steel
Kindle edition first published 2017
Copyright © Harriet Steel
The author or authors assert their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author or authors of this work. All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Chapter 1
New Year’s Eve 1933
Western Australia.
As the minutes to midnight ticked away, ever greater numbers of revellers crowded into the noisy bar. The dark-haired man limped back to his table with a glass of beer in his hand. Halfway there, someone knocked into him and he stumbled, lurching into a burly miner and slopping some of the beer down the fellow’s jacket. As the miner jerked round, he waited for a blow but to his relief, all that came was a gust of hot, whisky breath and a muttered curse.
The Inspector de Silva Mysteries Page 15