by Carola Dunn
“He might be helpful if we have to circulate the list nationally,” Megan suggested with reluctance. “And if we have to dig into the bank business.” To give Ken his due, he was a good detective.
“I hope he won’t be here that long! Now, back to the robbery. It sounds as if it wasn’t planned?”
“That’s Jay’s impression, sir, and from what he and the rest said about it, I’d agree.”
“What about his crew? Did the man show surprise? If they could tell, with those damn balaclavas.”
“He wasn’t present. Jay told me the captain sent the crewman back to the boat, out of view and out of hearing, before he made his new demand. Lenny can’t have been fully in his confidence.”
“Unplanned. So it didn’t originate with whoever was supposed to pick them up. Where does that get us? Think, Pencarrow!”
“Ummm … I’m not sure, sir,” Megan admitted.
“For a start, it suggests the original intention was as they were told, to land them inconspicuously in a place or places where it wouldn’t be too difficult to make their way to wherever they intended to go. I’m wondering what sort of arrangements the captain had made with the … let’s call him X. Presuming he had made arrangements.”
“If his intentions were originally good, I can’t believe he’d leave it to chance to find someone willing.”
“He’d have to give at least a down payment, with a promise of the rest. I doubt he’d pay in advance the full amount agreed on. The question is, did X decide to make do with what he had rather than take the risk of picking up the Nayaks?”
“Do you think the captain would have been able to tell X in advance when the Nayaks would be there to be picked up?”
“Good point. Probably not.” He scribbled a note to himself. “We’ll have to talk to some shipping people about freighter schedules, if any. Let’s say, having robbed his passengers, the captain decided it was best if they quietly disappeared.”
“It’s so horribly cold-blooded!” Megan exclaimed. “What could they have done about the robbery, being here in England illegally?”
“So far all we’ve got is guesswork based on assumptions and beliefs, Pencarrow. Don’t get your knickers in a twist till we know what really happened. Let’s hope Polmenna has found X, though I doubt it, with just two uniforms to help him. They should have picked up some hints, though, as to who knows about the caves. You may have to go over tomorrow and talk to a few people. Or Eliot, if he finishes in Bude. But he’s not up to speed with this business.”
“Sir, it seems pretty obvious that X must be a Boscastle boatman. But if he’d landed the Nayaks in Boscastle, how would they get any farther? I wouldn’t have said there’s anywhere along the North Coast that’s easy to get away from unless you have a car, particularly if you don’t know the area.”
Scumble frowned. “True. Even if they were told where and when to catch a bus, they’d be conspicuous waiting for it. Which makes me think they must have expected to be picked up. Do they have any relatives in this country?”
“Yes, sir. They refused to give me details for fear of getting them into trouble.”
“Understandable, if irritating. I don’t think Dr. Prthnavi knew anything about it. You don’t think the restaurant people in Camelford or Bodmin knew anything about it. In fact, the only person I can think of who’s sympathetic to refugees and keeps popping up all over this case is your auntie. And I wouldn’t put it past her.”
TWENTY-SIX
Once again, Eleanor trudged wearily into the Launceston police station. Teazle, recovered and full of energy, bounced at her feet.
“This is for Mr. Scumble,” she told the duty sergeant, handing him the three pages torn from Megan’s notebook, now covered with Jay’s wife’s neat writing. “I’d like to have a quick word with DS Pencarrow, if possible.”
“Right you are, Mrs. Trewynn. I’ll give her a buzz, ask her to pop down.”
Eleanor subsided onto a bench against the wall. She let Teazle wander and sniff, as the sergeant made no objection. On a nearby corkboard, notices about sheep dip and foot-and-mouth disease kept uneasy company with a few blurry photos of missing and wanted persons.
“Mrs. Trewynn, DI Scumble would be grateful if you wouldn’t mind stepping upstairs.”
She did mind, but she wasn’t going to deliberately provoke Scumble. “All right. Thank you. Come, Teazle.”
“I’ll send up a nice cuppa,” the sergeant said sympathetically. “Here, you can deliver these papers yourself.”
The stairs seemed steeper than before. She couldn’t believe she’d ever bounded up them, just to show a young policeman she wasn’t as decrepit as he assumed. She plodded up, envying the way Teazle’s short legs propelled her vigorously from step to step.
As Teazle reached Scumble’s door, well ahead of Eleanor, it was opened by DC Polmenna. He stooped to scratch her head and beamed at Eleanor.
“Nice to see you again, Mrs. Trewynn. Come in.”
“Hello, Mr. Polmenna.” She was happy to see he’d forgiven her for bamboozling him that time … “Good afternoon, Inspector. Megan dear—”
“Hello, Aunt Nell.” Megan’s smile had a tinge of apprehension.
Eleanor knew better than to go and give her a hug in the presence of her colleagues, but Teazle had no such inhibitions. She scurried over to Megan, delighted to see her again.
Leaving it to her niece to deal with the dog, Eleanor turned to Scumble. “Here’s the list of jewellery Megan asked me to bring you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Trewynn. Please sit down.” He pointed at the chair facing him across his desk. He looked and sounded grim, but that was nothing out of the ordinary.
She sat, turning the chair sideways a bit so that she could see Megan. She hoped the sergeant would hurry with the tea and Scumble wouldn’t have too many questions. “I doubt I have any information about the Nayaks that Megan hasn’t already given you,” she said.
“So do I. I just hope that reporter hasn’t got the lot.”
Of course, that was what was bothering him. “I don’t think so. The Nayaks told him just the bare bones of their ordeal, and I didn’t add to it. It’s quite harrowing enough without elaboration.”
“Hmm. You’ll be glad to hear Polmenna found your smuggler, without you needing to break your word. Seems half the population of Boscastle knew which houses you’d visited and which was the last you called at.”
“That’s good. I suppose. You did tell him I didn’t give him away?” she asked Polmenna anxiously.
“Oh yes, I made sure of that.”
“Thank you. Was he helpful?”
“He made a useful suggestion,” said Scumble. He didn’t seem inclined to be more specific.
Polmenna, however, was eager to elucidate. “He said the people who know about the caves are all old Boscastle families, who’ve lived there for generations. So I—”
“That’ll do, Constable.” But having cut him short, Scumble himself became communicative. “The end result is, Polmenna found a lobster fisherman who admitted taking money, a down payment, to bring some people ashore from the cave. He was to be notified when the moment came. That’s the last he heard, and all he knows, or so he claims. He denies knowing who the money came from. He’s downstairs waiting to have a little chat with me.”
At a nod from the inspector, Megan, looking unhappy, said, “He’s been given an outline of what happened to the Nayaks—the old man’s death and Kalith and Mrs. Chudasama’s possible deaths.”
“‘In the valley of the shadow…,” Eleanor murmured, thinking of Jocelyn, wondering whether she had extracted any news from the hospital.
“He’s been told about the children. He has kids of his own. He’s been cautioned. And he’s been left to think about it.”
“He’s been arrested?”
“No. Not yet. We can hold him overnight if necessary without charging him.”
Scumble took over again. “If he can satisfy me that he didn’t find out t
he Indians had arrived until it became public knowledge, he could still be charged with conspiracy to contravene the immigration laws. One thing that’s puzzling us—”
He was interrupted by the arrival of Constable Arden with a tray of tea: three thick white china mugs, for the detectives, and a flowery cup and saucer for Eleanor. They all contained the same muddy brew, however. It tasted pretty foul, but Eleanor drank it thirstily. And quickly. Scumble wasn’t hiding his impatience under a show of patience, for once.
As she returned her cup to the tray, he reiterated, “One thing that’s puzzling us is how, if our lobsterman had picked them up, the Nayaks expected or were expected to travel onwards. None of the small harbours in the area have convenient public transport.” He paused.
“I see what you mean,” said Eleanor. “Can’t you just ask them?”
“We will. But in the meantime, I wondered whether you could shed any light on the subject?”
“Me! I’m sure you can come up with more possibilities than I can.”
“The obvious answer is that someone was going to pick them up by car. It would have to be someone local. Were you, by any chance, approached and asked to help?”
Eleanor looked him straight in the eye. “No. But if I had been, I would have.”
He sighed. “Naturally. I would expect nothing else of you. Where—” He was interrupted again, by the phone this time.
Exasperated, he gestured to Polmenna, who picked it up.
Eleanor suddenly remembered how upset Lois Prthnavi had been at the plight of Kalith and his family, even before anyone was certain of the family’s existence. Was it possible that Lois, without Rajendra’s knowledge, had been expecting them? Had she agreed to pick them up and drive them inland?
It was a wild speculation Eleanor intended to keep to herself.
“The super’s back, sir,” said Polmenna. “He wants to see you right away.”
“Tell him I’m on my way.” He stood up, leaning with both fists on the desk. “Where are you off to next, Mrs. Trewynn? I’d prefer you to stay within reach.”
“I’m going home, and I have no intention of going anywhere tomorrow.”
“Good. Don’t leave the county, in case I need to talk to you again. Please,” he added as an afterthought, turning away in dismissal. To Megan, he said, “Now that we have the list from the library and the reports from Boscastle, you can start going over the lot again, see if you come up with any bright ideas. When I’m done with Mr. Bentinck, we’ll go and talk to chummie downstairs. Polmenna, you’d better read everything, too. Oh, and Pencarrow, send young Arden to meet the … DS Faraday. Unless you’d rather fetch him yourself?”
“No, thanks, sir.”
“No use telling him we’ll expect him tomorrow morning at nine, I suppose?”
“Not when he’s staying at the White Hart just across the square. He’s not that sort of copper.”
“I was afraid not.” Scumble turned to leave and saw Eleanor. “Still here, Mrs. Trewynn? Changed your mind about coming clean?”
“Certainly not. That is, I have nothing to come clean about, Inspector. I’d like just a quick word with my niece.”
He shrugged and went out.
“What is it, Aunt Nell?”
“The things that nice child Julia lent you—I expect you’ve been too busy to parcel them up and post them back to her. As I’m here, I could pick them up from your flat and deal with them when I get home.”
“I haven’t washed the shirt yet.”
“I’ll do it. It will dry overnight in the airing cupboard.”
“Thanks. Ask my landlady for the key. And please, Aunt Nell, remember to lock the door and give it back to her.”
“Of course, dear.”
Polmenna, already studiously bent over a stack of papers, looked round and gave her a wink.
* * *
The sun shone down on Bodmin Moor. Eleanor knew the ground would be soggy after the heavy rain, so she took Teazle to the old airfield near Davidstow for a short walk. Teazle arrived back at the car with a muddy tummy anyway. Luckily, Eleanor had remembered to put the dog’s towel back in the boot after washing it.
When they reached Port Mabyn, Eleanor parked at the top of the hill. The car park at the bottom was probably soggy if not actually flooded, and though the sun still shone, she didn’t trust it. She didn’t want to find herself unable to get the Incorruptible out of its shed tomorrow. She’d told Scumble she wasn’t going anywhere, but one never knew …
She nearly stopped at the vicarage on the way down, to ask Jocelyn whether she had rung the Plymouth hospital to ask after Kalith and his mother. Then she remembered it was Joce’s day for the LonStar shop. It was nearly closing time. She’d be packing up for the day.
And thinking of closing time, Eleanor hadn’t shopped for supper. She didn’t feel like cooking. Baked beans on toast it would have to be. She was sure she had a tin of beans, less sure whether there was any bread left. She was nearly home by this time, so she popped into the bakery opposite. The only wholemeal loaf they had left was Hovis, which she didn’t much care for. She bought it anyway.
Working out who was responsible for the Nayaks’ plight would be much simpler, she thought crossly, if one didn’t also have to shop and cook and dust and hoover and wash clothes and …
Oh, botheration! She’d left Julia’s clothes in the car.
As she was crossing the street, two volunteers came out of the shop. They exchanged greetings, and Eleanor and Teazle went on into the shop. Jocelyn locked the door behind her, turning the sign to CLOSED.
“Did you find time to ring Plymouth?” Eleanor asked. “The hospital?”
“Yes,” Jocelyn said grumpily. “All they’d say is that Kalith and his mother are both resting comfortably. It could mean they’re on the road to recovery or on their last legs.”
“That’s what they told the police, too. It must mean Kalith hasn’t been able to talk yet, don’t you think? or someone from Launceston would have gone to see him. I’ve been—”
“Eleanor, I’ve got to check the receipts, and Timothy and I have an early meeting this evening.”
“Let me know when you’re ready to leave. I’ll walk up the hill with you.”
She went out through the stockroom and up to her flat, leaving her door open. The taste of police tea lingered in her mouth, so she put on the kettle. But just as she poured the boiling water into the pot, Jocelyn called up the stairs.
By the time Eleanor got back, the tea would be as stewed as the muck she had been served in Launceston.
“Coming!” She clipped Teazle’s lead on again. Teazle, of course, was delighted.
“Did you bring your keys?” Jocelyn asked as they went out through the street door. She had her own keys in her hand ready to lock it.
“No, I—”
“Oh, Eleanor, I wish you’d try to remember! It’s the shop’s security, as well as your flat.”
“I’ll only be gone a few minutes. Come on! I left something in the car up at the top.”
“Your keys, no doubt.”
“No, actually. You are in a mood.”
“Sorry to snap. Mrs. Davies isn’t feeling well and can’t come in tomorrow, so I’ll have to. It’s really very inconvenient. I wish you’d learn to operate the cash register.”
“It was you who banned me from touching it. But I must say I’m glad you’ll be in the shop tomorrow.”
“What!”
“That is, I’m sorry you have to give up your day and I’m sorry Mrs. Davies is ill, but I’m glad I won’t have to deal with her.” Mrs. Davies, the chapel minister’s wife, had a permanent grievance because the vicar’s wife was in overall charge of the shop.
They had reached the vicarage. Jocelyn paused with her hand on the gate. “Whatever do you mean? Why would you have to deal with her?”
“Joce, the Nayaks have practically nothing. I’m sure the Red Cross people have done their best, but they need … Well, it would be much ea
sier to list what they do have. I was thinking, if you’d pick out as much stuff from the shop as you can in the morning, I could deliver it in the afternoon. If you think the donors would object, I’ll pay for it.”
“I’ll worry about that later. What do they already have?”
It didn’t take long to tell her. “You’ll help?” Eleanor asked.
Jocelyn bridled. “Need you ask? I’ll see what I can do. You’d better take my car. You can fit more in.”
“Thank you, my dear. I’d like to tell you more about them. I won’t keep you now, Joce, but can you come to lunch tomorrow? Leave something cold for Timothy for once.”
“He gets in such a fuss if I’m not there. Or he forgets to eat. Why don’t you come and have lunch with us. He’ll be interested, too.”
“All right. Thanks.” After baked beans for supper, Eleanor wasn’t going to turn down an invitation to a good lunch.
“I’ll tell you what, I’ll ring Mrs. Plover—”
“Who?”
“The wife of the vicar of St. Petroc’s in Bodmin. She can mobilise her forces to do something for the Indians this evening.”
“Thank you, Joce. It would relieve my mind.”
Eleanor fetched Julia’s shirt and pullover from the car. The woollie would have to make do with a thorough airing, or she wouldn’t be able to post it tomorrow. She washed the scarlet polo-neck and hung it over the bath to drip dry, hoping it wouldn’t need ironing. Whatever it said on the label, you could never tell, and she did dislike ironing.
She fed Teazle and ate her baked beans with Hovis toast and a grated carrot and apple salad. Then she went next door to see Nick.
He opened the door looking gloomy. “Hello, Eleanor. Come in.”
“What’s wrong?”
“The painting I’ve been sweating over for two days isn’t working.”
“Oh dear.” If it wasn’t working, it must be one of the kind of pictures she didn’t understand, because he could paint a tourist landscape with both eyes closed and one hand tied behind his back. “I wish I could help.”