Except, David had done an autopsy on her and had found no signs of brain damage or atrophy.
Fay slipped her phone out of her pocket and sent him a text.
Fay: How does this afternoon look for taking a boat out to the wreck?”
Chapter 22
Any illusions Fay may have been under about visiting the wreck in daylight were shattered when David messaged her back during his lunch break.
David: I don’t know if you have ever encountered a little organization we like to call the coast guard? It is run from the harbormaster’s office. If you want to meet them, try launching a boat in the daytime to explore the wreck of the Sinead. You will be turned back so fast your head will spin.
Fay: That is a very defeatist attitude. Are you saying we should go at night?
David: I’m saying we shouldn’t go at all. It’s a crazy idea. It’s dangerous and silly and not worth it.
Fay: That’s not what my friend Mr. O’Grady said.
There was a long pause during which Fay could imagine David tearing his hair out.
David: Oh, all right then. I’ll pick you up at ten o’clock tonight.
Fay: Thank you! You won’t regret it. (Okay, you might.) But it will be worth it to solve this mystery. Someone killed Tabitha Trott and that same person endangered the lives of the crew of the Sinead by tampering with Bluff Lighthouse. It’s not right that they should get away with it.
No answer was forthcoming, but Fay was content. He would pick her up at ten even though he strongly disapproved of her actions.
A glance at her phone told Fay that she was a few minutes late for lunch. Scooping the cats off her knees, she went to wash up and join the rest of the staff at the kitchen table.
Lunch was that quintessentially English dish known as toad-in-the-hole. Fay had never heard of it before coming to the island and still wasn’t much of a fan. It consisted of sausages that had been baked into a kind of savory batter. Fay recognized the batter as the same recipe that Morwen used to create the Yorkshire pudding that she often served with roast beef.
The toad-in-the-hole was accompanied by cooked vegetables and gravy. The sausages were sourced from a local farmer whose meat was a hundred percent organic and free range. Taken by themselves, the sausages were delicious. Taken by itself, the Yorkshire pudding was delicious too. It was just the combination of the two into one dish that Fay wasn’t used to.
Maggie and Pen had no such reservations.
Pen rubbed his hands together and said, “Ah” in an approving tone.
“Toad-in-the-hole – my favorite!” said Maggie.
“That looks good, thank you Morwen,” said Fay, wincing slightly as the housekeeper placed a large helping on her plate. They all dug in.
Fay had to admit that it wasn’t as bad as it looked. Morwen was an excellent cook. The sausages were crisp and tasty, and the batter had risen up, all puffy and golden. But toad-in-the-hole would never be her first choice. It was one of those dishes that you had to have been brought up on since childhood. It wasn’t quite as bad as the black pudding that Morwen served in fried slices for breakfast sometimes.
Fay had thought her housekeeper was pulling her leg when she told her that it was made of congealed pig’s blood, but it turned out to be true. Their British guests ate it with enjoyment, while the overseas tourists tended to have the same reaction of wide-eyed horror as Fay.
“How was your night at the pub yesterday?” Fay asked Maggie. “Did Duncan McCloud arrive?”
Maggie gave her a sunny smile. “Yes, he did. We had a lovely evening, thanks. He got along well with my friends.”
“That’s good.” Morwen gave an approving nod. “It would be best for him to hang out with a different crowd to his usual crew. It sounds as though they’ve been a bad influence on him.”
Pen grunted to show that he agreed with the statement.
“You should ask him to come out with you and your friends again some time, Maggie,” said Fay.
“I already have. We’ve made an arrangement to go to the movies in Torquay on Friday night. I’m hoping it will take his mind off things.”
“What kinds of things?”
“I’m not sure. He told me his aunt is worried about him. I got the impression that he might have done something he regrets.”
A coughing sound indicated that Pen had something to say. The women looked at him expectantly.
“Now, you know I’m not one to gossip,” he said.
Morwen kept a straight face. “Of course not, Pen.”
In fact, the taciturn Cornishman barely spoke at all, and never to exchange gossip.
He cleared his throat again and went on. “But I did hear something down at the pub about that young lad having to clear up a mess. I didn’t enquire what exactly was meant by that, but I got the impression that it wasn’t strictly legal and that it involved the lighthouse.”
“I knew it,” said Fay. “I knew that was Duncan I saw that night.
“Whatever are you talking about, Fay love?” asked Morwen.
She told them about the night she and David had set traps on the hillside near Bluff Lighthouse. She talked about the three men they had seen coming out of the lighthouse, locking it behind them, and carrying something away.
“What were they carrying?” asked Morwen.
“We couldn’t see at that distance. It wasn’t anything big. It looked like small boxes or piles of paper.”
“And they had their own key? It couldn’t have been Colonel Trengove, could it?”
“I don’t think so. These were young men. They moved fast and looked strong.”
“You think one of them could have been Duncan?” asked Maggie.
“It’s possible. One of them was the right height and build.”
Maggie looked disappointed. “I suppose he could have taken his aunt’s key for the night. He could have returned it before she even knew it was missing. No wonder she’s so worried about him.”
“We’re jumping to conclusions,” said Morwen. “How would Duncan get hold of his aunt’s key? Does he stay with her?”
“No. He told me he shares an apartment near the docks with three of the lads he works with. But he has a key to his aunt’s house. He specifically mentioned that.”
“Morwen’s right,” said Fay. “This is all speculation at this stage. If you and Duncan are becoming friends, Maggie, I really hope he’s not involved in any of this. But you should be careful just in case. This isn’t just a matter of removing some boxes from the lighthouse. It involves a possible murder too, not to mention the sabotage of a ship.”
Maggie sighed. “It doesn’t seem possible. He has such a gentle way about him.”
Fay agreed that Duncan seemed pleasant and gentle, but she also knew that some of the most charming people in the world could turn out to be killers.
“I hope to know more after tonight,” she said.
Morwen reached for the gravy. “What’s happening tonight?”
“I’ve persuaded David to take me out to the wreck to see what kind of state the Sinead is in.”
There was silence at the table as everyone looked up from their meals to stare at Fay. This was becoming the standard reaction to her idea.
“Isn’t that terribly dangerous?” asked Morwen.
“Maybe a little, but David is very experienced with boats.”
“His mother was a great sailor. She used to give sailboat and motorboat tours around the island. David’s boat belonged to her.”
“There you go then. He’s the right person to take me.”
Pen grunted. “Still dangerous though. You tell that lad to mind the Lorelei.”
“The Lorelei?” Fay thought she might have misheard.
“That’s it. You tell him that old Pen says he must mind the Lorelei. He’ll know what I’m talking about.”
Fay looked from Morwen to Maggie and back, but they seemed as mystified as she was.
Once she had finished frosting and decorating
the cupcakes she had made for tea, Fay settled down in her bedroom for another look at Tabitha’s diary.
This time it was her own name she was looking for. After several minutes of careful paging through the closely-written entries, she found it near the back. It hopped off the page at her because it was repeated several times.
June 16
I believe I know what is happening now. There is a terrible conspiracy afoot and I hardly know whom to trust.
If only I could go to the police station and lay my suspicions before them. But I know how fruitless that would be. It was just yesterday that I encountered Sergeant Jones on the high street. I greeted him politely and said there were some issues I wanted to discuss with him. I could tell at once that something was wrong. He treated me not as an ordinary villager, but as a child or an unbalanced person. He kept looking over his shoulder as though to reassure himself that there were people within hailing distance, in case I suddenly turned violent.
That man has clearly been listening to gossip.
I tried to calm him by speaking as rationally as I could. I explained that I had a feeling that people were coming into my house at night while I slept and disarranging my possessions.
This seemed to make him more uneasy than ever. Instead of doing his sworn duty as a police officer and accompanying me to my house to investigate the validity of my claims, he tried to distract me by talking about the weather.
I told him again about how I was constantly waking up to find that my possessions had been moved during the night. I even told him that I thought I had been drugged in my sleep once. He became quite agitated. He insisted that it was a doctor I needed rather than a policeman and tried to persuade me to accompany him to the surgery immediately. I declined, of course.
For the first time since this nightmare began, I feel convinced of the clarity of my own thoughts. My mind is not failing me. Someone is doing this to me and I don’t know how to fight it.
I think I know what their goal is, but I have no idea how many are involved or why exactly they are doing this.
This might seem like a ridiculous notion, but I have been toying with the idea of sending this diary to Fay Penrose of Penrose House. She has training as a detective and is likely to be objective. She doesn’t move in the same circles as I do and might not have heard the gossip about me. Perhaps I can persuade her to take my allegations seriously.
I can’t deny that I am frightened, diary. The people behind this conspiracy may become desperate enough to threaten my life. They have tried to get rid of me by convincing the village that I am losing my faculties. It is just a matter of time before they realize that they have failed in this. And then who knows what measures they may resort to in order to eliminate the threat I pose?
It all depends on what happens over the next few days. If I am still uneasy in my mind by then, I will post this to Fay Penrose. I don’t know whether she will pursue the correct course of action. All I know is that I would have sent this to her grandmother if she had still been alive.
Chapter 23
By the time ten o’clock rolled around, Fay had experienced a crisis of conscience.
When David rang, she answered the door wearing a robe and a contrite expression.
“What?” he said. “Why aren’t you ready? You said ten o’clock.”
“I was about to start getting ready when I realized that I wasn’t being fair. I have no right to blackmail you into doing something stupid and dangerous. Just because I want to get out to that wreck doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do. I’ll find another way to solve this case.”
David looked incredulous. “You can’t be serious. I made all the preparations.”
“I’m really sorry about that. If you have incurred any expense, I’ll be happy to compensate you…”
“That’s not the point.” He hesitated. “The truth is … I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”
“You were looking forward to it? Really?”
“Of course, I was. It’ll be an adventure. We don’t get nearly enough of those these days.”
Fay looked at him properly. His eyes were alive with excitement. She had last seen that look on his face on the last occasion that he had helped her with a perilous nighttime investigation. Something about facing danger seemed to bring him to life.
“But you said it was a terrible idea.”
“It’s hardly the most sensible course of action, but how else will we discover the secret of the Sinead? Besides, that shipwreck is breaking up fast. This might be the last night that we’ll find anything left of it.”
“Well … if you’re really sure.”
“I’m sure.”
“Then give me five minutes to get ready.” Fay bounded up the stairs two at a time.
David thought that five minutes sounded optimistic. He settled in an armchair in the lobby of the Cat’s Paw’s. His phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen and winced. It was Laetitia wanting to know if now would be a good time to Skype. Now would not be a good time at all, but what reason could he give for not being available at ten o’clock at night? He would have liked to tell her the truth, but he knew Laetitia would get upset if she knew.
“I’m taking Fay Penrose out in my mother’s boat to explore a shipwreck out to sea.”
Laetitia would have a fit. And the fact that this escapade involved Fay Penrose would make it even worse. David knew Laetitia suspected him of harboring feelings for Fay that were warmer than appropriate. He also knew that she was not wrong in this suspicion. But David was a loyal man. He was fully capable of ignoring any untoward emotions.
He and Laetitia weren’t engaged – although she had dropped some strong hints to that effect – but as long as they were together, he would remain loyal to her.
On paper, Laetitia was a much better match for him than Fay Penrose. They had the same professional interests and work ethic and always had plenty to talk about when it came to their patients and the latest medical discoveries they had read about in journals.
Fay was an ex-cop from New York City, of all things. She could never resist sticking her nose into whatever mystery currently had the island in its grip. She was impulsive and fearless and took risks. If she saw an injustice, she always had to try to right it. She was the kind of person who would traipse across town in the rain to rescue a goldfish. It was difficult to imagine a more unsuitable partner for a sober and serious surgeon like himself.
He couldn’t deny that he enjoyed helping her with her crazy nighttime expeditions, like this one. That side of her spoke straight to his adventurous soul. It was something that Laetitia would never understand.
He told himself that everything would be fine just as long as he kept Fay Penrose at arms-length.
“Ready to go?”
David looked up, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Indeed. Don’t bother bringing a raincoat. I have a set of slickers in the car for you.”
“A raincoat?” Fay opened the front door and saw that the night had gone from fine to rainy in the blink of an eye. Typical Bluebell Island.
As David held the car door open for Fay, he forgot that he had failed to reply to Laetitia. She would see that he had read her message, but no reply would be forthcoming.
“There it is.” David pointed through the rain-lashed windscreen. “The Barty. It’s an all-weather boat, just like the lifeboats. It will stay snug and dry in this rain.”
“Named after your father, of course?”
“That’s right. My parents were a devoted couple. My mother’s death was sudden. She was in her early fifties and healthy, as far as any of us knew. It was a brain aneurysm. My father has never got over her death. I’m starting to think he never will.”
Fay suspected that David hadn’t got over it either.
“Perhaps one isn’t supposed to get over a loss like that,” she said. “Perhaps one just learns to live with the absence of the person and the pain it causes.”
David glanced at Fay and
looked away quickly. “Perhaps.”
He opened the trunk and took out two sets of slickers. He showed Fay how to put them on over her clothes. There was a pair of rubber boots that came up over her knees, a thick yellow raincoat that zipped up to her chin, and a matching rain hat that pulled down past her ears and over her collar.
“I feel like I’m going to work on an oil rig in the middle of the North Sea,” she said, admiring her reflection in the car window. “This is surprisingly comfortable.”
“Don’t get too used to that. We’ll soon be fitting life jackets over this lot and that will be anything but comfortable.”
David led Fay to the jetty where the Barty was moored. He helped her on board and tossed her a life jacket to put on. Then he untied the boat and started the motor.
Fay cringed as the sound of the engine split the silence of the night. She had never realized how loud an outboard motor could sound before.
“Someone will come and investigate.” She looked around at the little network of jetties. “There’s no way we can set off unnoticed.”
“It doesn’t matter if they do. There’s no law against taking a boat out at night. It might not be advisable but it’s not illegal.”
“But going to the wreck is?”
“Well, it is both a crime scene and private property, so it’s definitely against regulations. If the coast guard spotted us, they would have every right to order us to return to shore.
Fay grabbed hold of the side of the boat as they began to chug away from the jetty.
“Who owns the wreck?”
“It’s protected by various maritime laws. Should it be salvaged, the ship itself would belong to whoever owns it, and the cargo would belong to its original owners too. If a claim had already been paid out, then they would both belong to their respective insurance companies.”
“Would it ever be salvaged?”
The Cat That Wasn't There Page 14