by Colin Forbes
They were heading down a rough road towards the sea, had almost reached it when the Rolls swung up onto a small headland. The car stopped, Marshal stepped out, flung his arms wide apart in a theatrical gesture.
`Paradise!' he shouted against the howl of the wind when Paula stopped the Audi and they joined him as Tweed struggled into his overcoat.
`One word for it,' Paula commented. 'What's that?' She pointed to a long flat area inside a wide bowl with a shed nearly. A windsock was streaming out, parallel to the ground.
`Bloody private airfield. Not used much, thank God. I tried to have it closed down but the council wallahs refused. Follow me down this path and watch your footing.'
They arrived at a point a few yards above the pebble beach and Paula stared. At three different levels, but built almost on top of each other, were rows of white stone cottages. Below another huge wave trundled in.
`This,' Marshal announced, 'is Seacove.'
`Is this all there is?' Tweed asked bluntly.
`My hideaway is the top level, converted inside at absolutely no attention to expense.'
Between Marshal's cottage and the next one was a wide gap. It continued down between the cottages on the low levels, then increased in steepness as it reached the beach.
`What's that ramp-like thing for?' Tweed enquired. `You'll see,' Marshal said gleefully.
As he led them to a heavy back door in his cottage Paula thought she heard the faint sound of a plane, then a massive wave broke and she felt spray on her face. Once beyond the back door Marshal had unlocked she almost gasped. The interior was luxuriously furnished, the plastered walls painted a tasteful shade of blue with pictures in gilded frames hung at intervals. The dining table (she presumed) was an antique, as were the carved chairs and an escritoire. Armchairs suggested it was also a living room. Tweed walked over and stared at two portraits of men in strange dress. He looked at Marshal.
`Portraits of your grandfather and his partner, Pitt and Ezra?'
`Right first time.'
Paula jumped as something heavy slapped against the windows on the sea side. Water from the wave was slithering down.
`Couldn't the windows get smashed in?' she asked. `Not likely, my dear. Armoured glass.'
`You've made an amazing job of the conversion' `Not me.' He grinned. 'Lavinia was in charge of that.'
He had taken a large heavy-looking enamel box from the boot of the Rolls and carried it in. He was looking round for somewhere to put it when Tweed grasped the handle to help him. It was very heavy. Marshal was stronger than he'd thought. Marshal took the whole weight, dumped the box on a ledge.
`Refrigerated. Lunch for later. Prepared by Lavinia. Don't trust what Mrs Grandy might have shoved in. Now, we'll look at the view, then I'll show you the Star Sprite.'
Tweed and Paula gazed out of the window, were appalled at what they saw. They had a clear view down over the tiled sloping roofs of the two levels of cottages below. Then came the pebble beach, half obscured by surf from the recent wave.
Beyond was a small bay. Its distant narrow exit to the ocean was partly enclosed by a cape on either side which made the exit look very constricted. Marshal stood between them, now wearing a blue peaked cap. He pointed to their left. A huge granite buttress with jagged outcrops sat on the mainland as though guarding the bay.
`That's Pindle Rock,' Marshal explained. 'It once had a huge spike, or pindle, projecting upwards. Got blown down by an exceptional storm. OK if you keep clear — and there is another hazard. You've got to watch it sailing our or returning. I'm talking about an underwater current midway across.'
`I know this is Seacove,' Tweed said, 'but where are we on the coast?'
`This —' Marshal embraced the section before the exit into the ocean — 'is Oyster Bay. Because it's shaped like one. Fishermen used to occupy these cottages but the fish went away so I bought their cottages for a song. Surfers used to be a pest, until three were killed out there on the same day.'
`I can well believe it,' said Paula.
She was gazing with fascinated horror at the ocean. A storm was building up. Waves like mobile mountains were building up approaching Oyster Bay. It was sheer havoc.
`Boat's through here,' Marshal said, leading them to a door at the right-hand end of the cottage. They were inside a huge shed with metal walls. Paula stared. Perched on the rail-like structure was what looked like a miniature cruise liner. Marshal handed Tweed and Paula yellow oilskins with hoods. At the same time he must have pressed a button. The huge glass door at the seaward end elevated and the wind had briefly abated, so there was a sinister quiet.
`You'll need these or you'll get soaked,' Marshal insisted, still holding the oilskins. The wind began to rise again.
`We are not going out in your yacht! 'Tweed shouted. `And I mean it!'
`Landlubbers,' Marshal said with a sneer.
Paula thought she faintly heard the sound of a plane taking off, then decided it was the purr of the yacht's engine which Marshal had switched on. Proudly, he explained the workings of the yacht.
`Look over the edge of the hull here. See that big lever at right angles to the deck? I press that down and she takes off. The forward hulls, both port and starboard, close in on each other until we leave the shed, then automatically open once we are outside on the ramp.'
`Once you are outside,' Tweed corrected him. `Boat's revolutionary. It's two boats. If the rear half hits another ship the Sprite splits immediately. The forward half has its own engine and is completely seaworthy. That is why the bridge is well forward.' `Sounds tricky,' Tweed observed.
`I need a really big wave coming up off the beach so Sprite is carried down the ramp runway on its crest. I think I see what I need coming...'
He had thrown the two oilskins on the shed floor in disgust, had donned his own oilskin, not using the hood as he checked the angle of his blue peaked cap. Paula glanced seaward and saw the wave Marshal had referred to approaching. As he climbed aboard and bent down to depress the starting lever he called out.
`Door will close automatically the moment I've left. Best view will be from living-room window. Help yourself to the food.'
They reached the living-room window in time to see Sprite emerging from its shed. It moved forward slowly on a level section of the ramp, met the huge wave as it scudded at speed down the tilted section. It crested the wave and plunged into Oyster Bay.
Paula lifted the lid of the enamel box, one eye gazing out of the window. As she'd expected from Lavinia, the box was neatly packed. She called out to Tweed.
`Chicken or ham sandwich?'
`Both.'
She also brought two cardboard cups decorated with a Wedgewood design and a flask of coffee. She had a shock when she stared out of the window. The bridge where Marshal was ensconced had a rear window and she could see him bent forward over the wheel. Her shock was caused by the direction the Sprite was taking, heading for Pindle Rock.
`He's going to hit Pindle,' she said tensely.
`No, he isn't,' Tweed replied through a mouthful of sandwich. 'He's steering west to avoid the underwater current.'
He was. The Sprite had changed course, then proceeded across the middle of Oyster Bay, heading for the exit into the ocean. The bay was a tumult of large waves following each other. The Sprite skilfully crested each wave and disappeared briefly before it mounted the next giant.
`He's got guts,' Tweed commented. 'Guts for anything, I'd say,' he added thoughtfully.
`He's mad!' Paula burst out. 'Mad as the legendary hatter. Look what's waiting for him, assuming he does get through the exit from the bay.'
Tweed had to admit to himself it was a terrifying prospect. Storm clouds had suddenly swept in from the west. The open sea was reacting violently. Mountainous waves were churning up the water, turning it into a maelstrom. Surely Marshal would turn round, come back? Tweed took out his pair of binoculars from his overcoat pocket. Like Paula he had put on his coat because it was cold inside the cottage.
`The fool is going to hit the right-hand cape,' Paula said.
Peering through the lenses, Tweed saw Marshal had adjusted the steering. The Sprite passed through the exit with plenty of room on either side. Then it dived into the maelstrom. Paula couldn't watch any longer.
She went back to the enamel box for the third time, collected two more plates and two chunks of Dundee cake well wrapped in greaseproof paper, refilled the cups with more coffee, took them to where Tweed was still standing. He thanked her without taking his eyes off the ocean. Paula felt compelled to watch.
The Sprite was being tossed about like a cockleshell, but now it was cresting from one wave to another. Then it turned towards the coast, swept through the exit into Oyster Bay. Passing well clear of Pindle Rock it mounted the crest of an incoming wave. Paula heard the door into the shed rising up.
`How does he do that?' she wondered.
`Probably has a powerful radio control — the sort of thing you use to open a power-operated garage door from the outside. Give him time to get rid of his wet clothes.'
They watched as, on the wave crest, the Sprite sailed up the rail-ramp into the shed. The door rattled shut. Paula picked up some plans off the table.
`It's much smaller than it looks but the fore part has two guest suites with bedrooms, living rooms, bathrooms. Same at the part behind the bridge. Do you really think it could split into two in case of an accident?'
`I think so. As it went down the slipway I noticed behind the bridge on the rear deck a wide deep metal band running from port to starboard. That, I think, is where it could split. And there was the top of a second rudder attached just below the bridge...'
He stopped talking as Marshal, clad in his country clothes, entered with a rush, slamming the door shut behind him. His face was red, his eyes gleaming with pleasure.
Tit rough out on the ocean but Sprite coped, as she always does. Lavinia will be annoyed she wasn't here'
`She goes out with you in seas like that as a passenger?' Tweed asked in surprise.
`More than that. She can operate the damned thing better than I can. She's brilliant at steering. So I suppose she must have some talent,' he sneered on a downbeat note.
`I've had an urgent message recalling me immediately,' Tweed said quickly. 'Hope you don't mind coming back by yourself. We have seen the show, for which many thanks'
`You mean I come back later after I've eaten?'
`We've left you plenty to eat,' Paula intervened, seeing the scowl on his face. 'Thank you for a memorable experience.'
`Then you'd better shove off,' he snapped. 'Other guests always travel down and back with me.'
`What message?' Paula asked when they were well away from Seacove.
`I made it up. Couldn't stand the thought of trailing back behind Marshal's Rolls. And what a weird vessel, the Sprite.'
`I wouldn't travel in it for a fortune,' Paula said. 'And you've still got my mobile phone. Why not get one of your own?'
`Because I dislike them, but I need it at the moment.'
`You remember when Marshal was using his mobile and it was so loud we heard not only what he was saying but what people at the other end also were saying? How come?'
`He had the volume turned full up. But why? To show what an important man he is. I think I can remember the way back.'
`I don't think you can. Which is why I'm checking the map. I'll navigate...'
A storm broke. Rain lashed so ferociously Tweed had trouble seeing through the windscreen even with the wipers going full blast. It hammered on the roof, stopped as suddenly as it had started. It was beginning to get dark.
When they reached the tunnel through The Forest it was night and Tweed had his highlights on full beam. Paula didn't like it even with the headlights on. She was relieved when the gates to Hengistbury swung open after a brief delay.
`Peace again now,' she whispered.
It was not long before she regretted making the remark.
22
Climbing the steps to the terrace they saw that all the lights at the front of the manor were on. Standing in the open left-hand door was Leo. His yellow hair was all over the place and he was wearing his usual T-shirt and jeans. He had a silly grin on his face.
`I opened the gates for you,' he said gleefully as they followed him into the dimly lit hall.
`You're not allowed to,' called out Snape, standing at the foot of the staircase. 'I'm allowed to and so is Lavinia. Not you...'
`And you're nothing but the friggin' butler,' Leo yelled at him. 'The one who disappears for hours, so push off.'
As Snape, furious, went back up the staircase Tweed was aware that Mrs Grandy was standing near the entrance to the corridor leading to the kitchen.
`You're too late for dinner,' she said with a nasty smile. 'It was served at six. This is my evening off to visit my sister in Gladworth. Best I can do for you two is shepherd's pie and one of Lavinia's fruit things. Ready in a half-hour. Served in dinin' room.'
`Sounds appetizing,' Tweed replied with a smile. 'But what about Marshal?'
`Tried to get 'im on the phone. No reply. So 'e'll 'ave to fend for 'is self...'
As she disappeared Leo tugged at Tweed's arm, guiding him towards the library.
`Got something to tell you. Someone you'll want to go and see urgently.'
`What about closing the entrance gates?' Paula suggested. Leo had closed the door into the hall as soon as they were inside.
`Shut them while you were coming up the drive, didn't I?'
Tweed and Paula walked into the library, sat down in armchairs at the round table. Leo, exuding excitement, came bustling in after hanging up the coats he had taken from them. He closed the door carefully.
`Mind if we sit at the far end?' he requested. 'Then if Snape listens at the door he won't hear nothing'
They stood up, went to a square table near the far end, sat down in tapestry-covered carver chairs with cushions on the seats. Leo sat in the third chair, his long legs in constant motion, his hands clasping, unclasping, then clasping again. Can't he ever keep still for a minute? Paula wondered.
`Where is everyone?' Tweed asked.
`They had dinner quickly, didn't they. Then they trooped off upstairs to their apartments. Lavinia had a pile of papers and said she didn't want to be disturbed. Mr Warner had a big briefcase and told me on no account was he to be disturbed.'
`So what did you want to tell us?' Tweed said impatiently.
`Don't suppose you've ever heard of a Mrs Mandy Carlyle?'
The shock registered with both listeners. Tweed managed to keep his expression blank. Paula clenched her teeth.
`Who is she?' Tweed asked.
`Better go see her and find out for yourself. Here is her address.'
He produced a sheet of folded paper from his back pocket, straightened it, pushed it across the table so both could read it. The words were written in an educated script. Baron's Walk, Dodd's End.
`You've visited this place?' Tweed suggested. Not me. It's this side of Tunbridge Wells.'
`Who told you all this?'
`Can't tell you that. It's a secret...'
`You think so?' Tweed's fist crashed down on the table. It made Leo jump up half out of his chair, then he sank back. 'I'm investigating the brutal murder of your own grandmother. So you will tell me now!'
`Well —' Leo's restless hands were performing a variety of movements — if you'll promise not to tell a soul...'
`That's it. I'm sending you up to Scotland Yard.' `Oh Lord, not that. It was Crystal.'
Where did your sister get her information from?'
`I don't know. If you don't believe me you can send me up to your bloody Scotland Yard.'
`All right.' Tweed relaxed. 'Now we'll have Crystal down here for a chat.'
`She's not here. She left after dinner to visit a boyfriend in Gladworth, or maybe outside the village. And, before you ask, I don't know his name! And I don't know where he lives.' He quietened
down. 'She can be very secretive about her own life.'
`You do realize, Leo, this whole conversation is absolutely confidential? Not a word to Crystal.'
`She'd kill me if I told her. I thought I was being helpful, telling you what I have.'
`You have been. So, not a word to Crystal...'
`I've told you. She'd kill me. You've never seen her when she goes really wild. I'd like to go upstairs to my rooms to sleep. I'm fagged out.'
`Good idea. Get some sleep.'
When he had gone Tweed looked at Paula, who looked back as he spoke.
`Mrs Carlyle — or Mrs Mandy Carlyle as he said. What do you think of that?'
`Casts a new light on the whole situation.'
Tweed checked his watch. 'Good Lord, it's 8.30 p.m. Where did the time go?'
`Driving carefully back from Seacove, which is a long way off. And it's 9.30 p.m. Your watch has stopped. No sign of our meal. Mrs Grandy has stormed off without bothering to feed us. I'm not hungry anyway.'
`So where is Marshal? He should have been back at least an hour ago. Strange.'
The mobile started buzzing. He answered it. He listened and made very few comments, glancing now and again at Paula.
`We actually interviewed her,' he said at one point. `Yes, we interviewed her recently. Tell you about it later. I want to leave now.'
He closed the call, sat staring up at the ceiling for a minute. Then he looked at Paula.
`That was Roy Buchanan. Think you could stand a drive across country? Not too long.'
`Something has happened?'
`You could say that. Mrs Mandy Carlyle has been murdered. Same technique as used on Bella. Professor Saafeld is on his way down to Dodd's End.'
`Now that is strange,' Paula said as she stood up. `After what Leo told us. So soon afterwards.'
`That occurred to me.'
23
When Tweed pulled up the Audi a few yards from the entrance to Dodd's End a dramatic sight met their eyes. The front of Baron's Walk was illuminated in a glare of lights: three police cars, their blue lights revolving, were parked close to the front garden, uniformed policemen with powerful torches were searching the garden and all the windows had their curtains closed but there were lights behind them.