by Carola Dunn
First things first.
Fifteen minutes later, she sat down with a cup of tea, dialled the Launceston police station, and asked for DI Scumble. “This is Mrs. Trewynn. He’s expecting my call.”
She hoped to speak to Megan first, but she was put straight through to Scumble.
“All dried off, are we?” he said sarcastically. “I take it it’s raining on the coast. You’ll be glad to hear Launceston is sunny.”
“How odd. Nice for you, but—”
“Because I want to see you here, as soon as you can make it, if not sooner.”
“Why can’t you come here?” Eleanor asked indignantly. “You could get here much quicker than my car can get to you.”
“Because I’m extremely busy. I appreciate it’s possible you are too, and that your business is more important to you than providing further assistance with the case in which you have already been involved. I can’t make you come.”
“If there’s really something I can do to help … All right, I’ll come. I hope it’s not so urgent that I can’t have breakfast first.”
“Breakfast!” said Scumble, in the voice of a man who has been up and at work for several hours already.
“And the Incorruptible probably needs petrol,” Eleanor thought aloud. “Ummm … This may sound silly, Inspector, but I can’t remember where I left the car.” A wordless explosive sound reached her ear. “Let me see: I drove the Incorruptible to Boscastle, and then went to tell you … and Megan drove us both to Port Isaac in a panda car. And then Mrs. Stearns picked me up there.” Better not to mention the futile trip to Truro, though it had given her an idea, which she couldn’t quite call to mind … “So the Incorruptible is still parked in Launceston,” she concluded, “unless it’s been towed away.”
“You win,” the inspector conceded bitterly. “I’ll send a car to pick you up.”
In spite of the police car taking about half as long to cross the moors as the Incorruptible would have, Eleanor had time to feed Teazle and herself and wash up before the street doorbell rang. Peering down through the rain-washed kitchen window, she saw a panda below, parked with two wheels on the pavement, as was necessary to allow other vehicles to negotiate the narrow street.
She clipped Teazle’s lead to her collar, gathered up handbag, raincoat, and umbrella—whatever Scumble said about the weather in Launceston, one never could tell—and went down. The uniformed constable awaiting her was the boy who had asked her only yesterday whether she could manage the stairs at the police station.
Blushing, he saluted her. “PC Arden, madam.”
“We’re ready to go,” she said with a smile.
He looked at Teazle, blinked, and opened his mouth. Nothing came out—fortunately, since Eleanor had no intention of leaving the dog behind. She hoped he wouldn’t get into trouble with Scumble.
Teazle had no intention of being left behind. As soon as the constable opened the car door, she jumped up on the seat and popped over the gear lever to the back. She sat in the middle, stumpy tail thumping, always happy to go for a ride and unconcerned as to where she was going.
Eleanor, on the other hand, spent the journey wondering just what Scumble expected of her. It seemed most unlike him to actually request her help. She didn’t have any further help to offer, now that the Indians had been found and rescued. Was he going to insist on her giving him the name of the fisherman who had told her about the caves? She had promised Abel Tregeddle she’d keep him out of the picture.
What other reason could Scumble have for wanting to talk to her? She worried about it the whole way to Launceston.
It rained until they started down off the moor. The slow-moving storm seemed to have stalled on the heights, as if held at bay by the towering boulders of Brown Willie and Rough Tor. As promised, Launceston itself was bathed in sunlight.
When Eleanor walked into the station, the sergeant on duty smiled at her benevolently. “Mrs. Trewynn, for DI Scumble, right? And how’s the pup today?” Teazle wagged her tail but continued to head for the stairs. Picking up his phone, he laughed. “She knows where she’s going. I’ll let him know you’re on your way, Mrs. Trewynn.”
Led by Teazle, Eleanor reached Scumble’s door just as Megan opened it. “Hello, dear. Good morning, Inspector. I’ve been thinking and thinking, and I can’t imagine any way I can help you.”
“I don’t know that you can,” he said sourly, “but my superintendent had a call late last night from some VIP at the Commonwealth Relations Office vouching for your credentials.”
“Sir Edward Bellowe?”
“That’s him. He’d somehow heard your name in connection with this business. Mr. Bentinck assured him we’d paid heed to your suggestions and they had paid off in spades.”
“Then what more can Sir Edward possibly expect?”
“It’s not just Sir Edward, or even just the Commonwealth people. The super is afraid we’re going to have the whole kit and caboodle landing on our doorstep—Immigration, Home Office, Foreign Office, even Scotland Yard all gumming up the works. The Coast Guard already have a finger in the pie.”
“And you’re hoping to use Sir Edward as a scarecrow?” asked Eleanor, adding a fresh ingredient to the stew of metaphors.
“If we can tell the others that Commonwealth Relations are holding a watching brief, maybe it’ll make them think twice about poking their noses in. By what I hear, our relationship with the New Commonwealth isn’t too grand just now. And if we’re consulting you, we can just about justify claiming we’re working with Sir Edward and his lot.”
“I suppose so. Would you like me to talk to Sir Edward? He and his wife are good friends of mine.”
“Possibly, later. We’ll see how things go. I’ll tell you something, Mrs. Trewynn, I’m going to collar the villain who left three kids and a pregnant woman to die—not to mention the rest of them!—and I won’t stand for any interfering busybodies getting underfoot. Nor anyone holding back pertinent information. So now you’re going to give me the name of the man who told you about those caves.”
“I promised! If it were a matter of saving lives … That’s what persuaded him to tell me. But they’re safe now.”
“And what about the next lot? If we let this bloke get away with it, what’s to stop him trying it again? From all I hear, there are plenty of potential victims out there. Not every family can boast of a hero like young Chudasama, and even he was too late for the old man.”
“How is he? Do you know?”
“‘Resting comfortably.’ Hospital-speak for still in the land of the living. The doctors won’t let a copper near him yet, though. Come on, no more messing about, let’s have that name.”
It wasn’t just his usual irritation, Eleanor realised. He was truly angry. Yet a promise is a promise and she still hesitated.
“Sir, I’ve been thinking—”
“Congratulations, Pencarrow! Don’t strain the brain.”
Megan ploughed on. “It seems to me we could find the informant just by going door-to-door in Boscastle. It’s not a very big village. I bet everyone knows Aunt Nell, because she collects donations there, and lots of people probably know exactly which houses she called at yesterday morning. Even which was the last house, before she came here to pass on the info.”
“You’ve got a point,” the inspector said grudgingly. Eleanor let out a sigh of relief. “We’re going to have to do a door-to-door there anyway. If Ajay Nayak— Have I got that right? Assuming he interpreted the sudden change in the ‘captain’ correctly, the man must have had someone in mind to pick up the Indians.”
“The captain?” Eleanor ventured.
“We have to refer to the big boss villain somehow, Mrs. Trewynn.”
“Jay Nayak called him the captain, Aunt Nell. He—”
Scumble made an impatient gesture. “If I may be allowed to continue: Chances are, he’d already sounded out a boatman who knew how to find the caves, and that boatman is likely to be from Boscastle. Makes sense?”
“Yes, sir. Assuming Jay’s right. Isn’t it possible…” She hesitated.
“Spit it out, woman!”
“If Jay’s wrong—or even if he’s right, come to that—isn’t it possible the captain paid a boatman in advance and the failure to pick them up was the boatman’s fault, not the captain’s?”
“Could be, I suppose. Yes, it’s possible.”
“And Jay did say the captain claimed he needed more money for the boatman.”
“I don’t like you calling him Jay, Pencarrow. You’re getting too close.”
“But most of them are surnamed Nayak. I can’t refer to all the men as Mr. Nayak. Besides, he is—or was—a copper. A fellow sergeant, at that.”
The inspector snorted but didn’t argue.
“Anyway, I can’t remember all their christian—their first names. I wish I’d had a chance to talk to some of the others yesterday, about their impressions of the captain, and anything else they might have noticed that Jay missed or didn’t think to mention.”
“You’ll get your chance this afternoon. Mr. Bentinck fixed it up with Egerton.”
“Egerton is the Bodmin superintendent?” Eleanor asked.
“That’s right. As a matter of fact, the super said Egerton wouldn’t touch it with a barge pole. He’s afraid of coming to grief—too many complications. So though they’re in Bodmin, they’re ours. Or rather, for the moment, your niece’s.”
“All on her own?”
“Mrs. Trewynn, this isn’t the only case I have to deal with. Among others, four tourists were mugged in the fog in Bude, and my other sergeant is helping out there. DC Polmenna—you may remember him—will have to manage the Boscastle door-to-door with a couple of uniforms. I don’t want to borrow people from Bodmin if I can help it. Wait a bit!” He snapped his fingers. “Do you speak— What are those languages, Pencarrow?”
“Gujarati is the main one, plus Swahili and Hindi.”
“Only a few words of Gujarati. Quite a lot of the others, though I’m a bit rusty. You mean, you want me to go with Megan to interview the Indians?”
“She will ask the questions. But your knowing the lingos gives me an excuse to send you along. That should keep Sir Edward Bellowe happy. He told the super you have a gift for setting people at ease, and these people have got to be in a state of anxiety, so you might even be helpful.”
“I’ll do my best,” said Eleanor.
“Thank you.”
“Who’s looking after them? Are they still in hospital? They’re not in prison, are they?”
“Don’t worry, Aunt Nell, they’re not in prison. Some are in hospital. Kalith’s in Plymouth and the Coast Guard took his mother there, too, when they airlifted her out. The woman who’s expecting is in Bodmin Hospital still, and one of the children, with his mother. I can’t remember all the relationships. Jay told me, but the boat was tossing about and my notes got a bit muddled.”
“Not to say illegible!”
“I can read them, sir. I just…”
“Can’t make sense of them. That’s another thing you’ll have to do, get the relationships straight and get the names spelled properly.”
“Yes, sir. Social Services is taking care of the rest of them,” Megan told Eleanor.
“Another damned interfering government department,” Scumble said gloomily.
“They’re lucky, they’ve been put in one of the new council houses in Bodmin. Very cramped, of course, but a sight better than the cave!”
The phone rang, and Megan picked it up. “Pencarrow … Who?… You’re not serious?… Yes, just a moment.” Looking aghast, she put her hand over the mouthpiece. “Sir, it’s … it’s DS Faraday. Will you take the call? Please?”
“Kenneth Faraday? The Boy Wonder? Scotland Yard? Bloody hell, just what we need!” Scowling, he picked up the receiver of the phone on his desk. “Scumble here. Put him through. Sergeant Faraday? What the devil”—he glanced at Eleanor—“deuce do you want?… No, I have not heard from the chief constable … For who? No, there’s no need to repeat yourself … Better the devil we know, eh? Well, we don’t need your help but I suppose you don’t have a choice in the matter … All right, all right, someone will meet you at the station … Hang on.” He covered the mouthpiece. “He wants to know if you’ll put him up, Pencarrow.”
“What cheek! No, I bloody well won’t!”
Scumble spoke into the receiver again. “You’re out of luck, Sergeant. I’ll have a room booked for you at the White Hart.” He hung up.
Megan was bursting with indignation. “What’s he coming here for?”
“To keep an eye on things for the Home Office, the Foreign Office, and everyone else under the sun. Could be worse. At least we’re spared a representative of each. They’re sending him, specifically, because he’s already acquainted with the local yokels.”
“What! He didn’t say—”
“No, no, simmer down. He’s cocky but not quite that cocky. That’s what it amounts to, though. Ah, well, I expect I can dig up a job of work to keep him out of my hair.”
“I hope you don’t intend to palm him off on me! Sir.”
“No promises, Pencarrow, no promises.”
Eleanor was racking her brains. Kenneth Faraday? She recognised the name but couldn’t picture the face, which meant she had never met him, as her memory for faces—if not for keys—was excellent.
Scotland Yard? He must have been a colleague of Megan’s when she worked in London. It was obvious neither she nor Mr. Scumble liked him.
Megan sighed. “Well, he may be a pain in the neck, but no one can say he isn’t a smart detective, as well as being a smart aleck.”
TWENTY-THREE
Megan and Eleanor drove south towards Bodmin in pouring rain. The windscreen wipers swished back and forth, back and forth. Eleanor, as she didn’t have to concentrate on the road beyond them, found herself involuntarily watching them, her eyes crossing. She blinked and turned towards Megan.
“Miserable weather for driving. But for heaven’s sake, remember the Incorruptible is in Launceston and don’t drop me off at home on the way back.”
Megan laughed. “After hearing what the boss said after you told him, I couldn’t possibly forget. Sorry about the language back there. It sort of goes with the job.”
“I daresay I heard a mild version, and Mr. Scumble did switch from ‘devil’ to ‘deuce’ in my honour. Though why it’s acceptable to say ‘Better the devil we know’ and not ‘What the devil,’ I never shall understand.”
“I expect Mrs. Stearns would be happy to explain.”
“I shan’t ask her. But there is something I want to ask you, and if you don’t want to answer, you may tell me to go to the devil.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Aunt Nell! What is it?”
“I was wondering about Detective Sergeant Kenneth Faraday of Scotland Yard. I know I’ve heard the name. Isn’t he the one who came down about the stolen jewels and went with you to Bristol?”
“That’s him.”
“Why does Mr. Scumble call him the ‘Boy Wonder’?”
“Because he behaves as if he thinks he is. I mean, Ken acts as if he was God’s gift to the police. And to women.”
“Is he the London boyfriend you told me about?” Eleanor asked tentatively. “The one you said was your reason for coming back to Cornwall? You never mentioned his name. I don’t mean to pry, dear, but if there’s a chance I might meet him, perhaps I should know.”
“Yes, he’s the one. You’d think two hundred miles would be enough, but he seems to haunt me. Of course, it’s partly the boss’s fault. Anytime he needs Scotland Yard’s cooperation, he makes me ring Ken, so I suppose it’s not surprising he gets the idea I’m still interested. But I’m not. I expect you’ll find him charming, because he is. And that’s enough of that.”
Eleanor quickly changed the subject. “I didn’t follow all that Mr. Scumble was saying about the questions you need to ask. Are you allowed to tell me what you f
ound out yesterday?”
“I don’t see why not. He shouldn’t have sent you with me if he didn’t want you to know.”
“Why don’t you begin at the beginning and tell me as much of their story as you’ve picked up so far.”
“Okay. They were on board a ship in the harbour at Mombasa— That’s Kenya, isn’t it? That’s where they originally sailed from, though I’m not sure whether they started out in Kenya or Uganda.”
“They’re both expelling Asians.”
“Whichever, they weren’t allowed to land in Mombasa.”
“They have British citizenship?”
“As Jay said, for what it’s worth. They’d already been refused entry, here and other places. One of the sailors on their ship met a man ashore who offered to get them into England. You can hardly blame them for jumping at the chance. What else could they do?”
“I don’t know, dear. It’s an appalling situation. Sooner or later the government will have to relax the restrictions on immigration, but in the meantime … So much suffering! So they accepted.”
“And paid a stiff price, Jay said. The boss wants to know how they paid, because of what happened later. I mean, were they carrying sufficient cash, or what? They couldn’t have written a cheque, or they’d know the man’s name.”
“Could he describe the man?”
“Never saw him. Unless he was the same bloke that dropped them off in the cave, and he … Well, I’ll get to that later.”
Eleanor smiled at her. “You see how difficult it is to provide the sustained and consecutive narrative the inspector always wants?”
Megan laughed. “I do. I’ll never demand it of a witness again. The next thing was, they were transferred at night to a larger freighter.”
“Blindfolded?”
“No, the name of the ship was covered up, everything that had it on. Life belts and so on, I suppose. They were taken below, and it certainly sounds as if they weren’t the first, judging by the accommodation they found in the hold.”
“Wait a bit. Surely you can narrow down what ship it might have been? Every port I’ve ever been in kept a record of comings and goings. The harbourmaster at Mombasa should be able to tell you what ships were there at the right time. Names and registration, I should think. I assume the family know the date they were there?”