by Holly Bell
‘This divination thing I’ve inherited from the Flamgoynes, Dad. This clan talent .’
‘Yes?’
It came out in a mixture of embarrassment and relief at confession,
‘I can see them, you know.’
‘Ah,’ smiled his father. ‘You see dead people?’
This brought forth a grin. ‘Transitioned,’ Thomas corrected.
Kyt laughed. ‘Quite. Senara and Perran Cadabra, then?’
‘Yes.’
‘Helpful?’
‘I think so.’ Thomas explained about the missing link. ‘It has to be someone who had known about Senara’s instructions to her agent — whoever that might have been — to send the invitations to the van journey. Someone who may have overheard their conversation or seen the two of them meet and somehow made themselves privy to what was discussed.’
‘Seems reasonable,’ replied Kyt.
‘Any ideas?’ Thomas prompted.
‘Whatever solicitor Senara used, would be my first thought.’
‘She ruled him out.’
‘Hm ….’ Kyt thought. ‘What about Perran Cadabra?
‘Perran? He had no knowledge of the plan,’ stated Thomas.
‘How do you know?’
‘They both said so.’
‘Hm.’ Kyt took a sip of wine. ‘Well, I suppose … the Cadabras have always been on the side of the angels … Still ...’
‘I can’t believe he’d ever betray his wife,’ insisted Thomas.
‘Of course not, but maybe unintentionally?’ his father suggested.
‘No … No, surely not.’
‘All right well … have you considered .…’ Kyt began tentatively
‘Considered?’
‘I’m reluctant to suggest it.’
‘Why?’ asked Thomas, bemused.
‘Son, how detached have you remained from this case, these people? The Cadabras?’
‘What do you mean? I’ve done things by the book, such as it is for something involving magic and witches and goodness knows what.’
‘Senara Cadabra saved your life, and you’ve been spending a lot of time with Amanda,’ Kyt pointed out gently, ‘Do you think …?’
‘I do see what you mean,’ Thomas replied calmly. ‘But I assure you I’ve maintained a strictly professional relationship with … with all of the Cadabras. What is it that you think I’m missing, Dad?’
‘Have you considered the possibility that it was Senara herself who tipped off the Flamgoynes? What better way to ensure the demise of the Cardiubarns without actually pulling the plug herself?’
‘I ... no …. no surely …’
Was it possible? Thomas wondered. From the beginning, she had toyed with him … even now … how much could he trust what she’d said? Or hadn’t said.
‘Just think about it,’ urged his father temperately.
‘Yes … of course.’
Thomas fell silent while he ate. After a moment he looked up and smiled.
‘Meanwhile … I would like you to pursue an avenue for me.’
Kyt was interested. ‘Oh yes?’
‘Assuming neither Senara nor Perran gave the game way, the question is, who was in Parhayle on the same day that Senara Cadabra had her meeting with her agent?’
‘After thirty years, I doubt many people would remember, even if they’d seen Senara.’
‘But what about taking it from the other end?’
‘The Flamgoyne end?’
‘Yes, if we assume it was one of them.’
‘I wasn’t in the loop then, son. I couldn’t help you there.’
‘But there is someone who is still around who was. The one Flamgoyne we have access to now. I think there was little or nothing that went on at Flamgoyne that he didn’t have some knowledge of. He may have seen or heard something about a family member or retainer who may have met with someone connected with Senara Cadabra.’
‘Someone who knew about the letters sent to the members of the Cardiubarn clan and their planned van journey?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re welcome to approach Pasco any time, Thomas.’
‘Not me. I won’t have any clout with him.’
‘Ah … I see. Yes, your association with Amanda Cadabra, who is the last remaining Cardiubarn we know of, would certainly win you no favour with Pasco.’
‘Quite. And I’m just the Young Master. But you, as Miss Cadabra phrased it, are Arlodh now.’
‘”Lord”? Good grief, how feudal!’ Kyt remarked. ‘But “lord” of very recent date. I’m not sure Pasco would switch loyalties that quickly … All right. I suppose, if he knows anything, my spurious title is the only reason he’d tell me. Very well.’
‘Thanks Dad.’
‘I agree that it could be a fruitful line of enquiry but, Thomas … you’ll think about …’
‘The alternatives? Yes.’
‘Well, at least one thing’s clear,’ offered Kyt, breaking the sombre mood that seemed to have fallen upon his son. ‘I know now why you splashed out on a bottle of the 2016!’
The following day, after breakfast, Trelawney left for Parhayle police station, where he took a few minutes, before commencing work, to invite himself to dinner at Hogarth’s. He felt in need of a second opinion.
***
‘Hm. Perran?’ former Chief Inspector Michael Hogarth pondered, over Lamb Rogan Josh and basmati rice. He stretched long, brown-corduroy-covered legs towards the fire. ‘No, he’s a true-hearted Cornishman through and through. I don’t believe that he knew of his wife’s plot. Senara … she’s a tricky one … I wouldn’t like to say for sure.’
‘My father seemed to think that because Senara saved my life, my judgement of her could be clouded.’
‘Is it?’
‘Perhaps it has been. A little. Without my realising it. All right. Senara Cadabra is on the suspect list.’
‘I hesitate to say this.’ Trelawney thought Mike sounded perilously like his father. He wondered what could be coming next. ‘I don’t want your loyalties to be divided.’
‘They’ve been divided since I was 12, and my parents divorced. I’m pretty good at keeping more than one loyalty plate spinning.’
‘Very well, Thomas. There was someone else who had links to both clans at the time of the incident.’
Thomas shook his head in mystification.
‘Someone,’ continued Hogarth, ‘connected to the Flamgoyne clan who knew Senara.’
Trelawney frowned. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘If you’re going to be detached …’
‘He only went to Senara to protect me from the Flamgoynes! I can’t believe my father … Why would she tell him about the letters and her plan anyway?’
‘I can think of no reason,’ replied Hogarth frankly. ‘Simply that it is a connection.’
Trelawney moved his tray, loaded with Chicken Tikka Masala, got up, walked about the room, then sat down again. It always helped him to reset his mind. ‘All right. Let me look at this as if it were a new case. Who are the players? What are the facts? What do we know and how?’
‘Go on,’ his former boss encouraged him.
‘The Cardiubarns in the van that day on that road, here in Cornwall, were killed by toxic gas. Senara Cadabra, even though she was back in Sunken Madley, knew they would be on the road that day because she arranged it. We have her confession.’
‘So far, so good.’
‘Each of the Cardiubarns, including Senara and Perran Cadabra, were sent letters. How can we be sure of that? Senara says she instructed her agent to send them out. She says that the letter she received was not what her agent would have sent. It was on magic parchment with magic ink.’
‘We are relying a great deal —’
‘On her testimony. Yes. However, Perran Cadabra confirmed that he received the same style of letter. He’s a witch too. Hm … I need him to confirm if he recognised it as
magical. I trust his word over hers.’
‘Let’s say he confirms,’ said Hogarth.
‘So, let’s put those two to one side for the moment. The Flamgoynes had motive. They had means. My father and I found the ink and paper inside Flamgoyne itself. Who knew where the paper and ink were hidden? I knew where the paper was. I didn’t know where the ink was. At least, I didn’t remember knowing. However, according to Pasco, only three people knew where the ink was: Lady Gronetta, her eldest son Hedrok and Pasco himself. Pasco could have known where the paper was. It wasn’t that difficult to find that day I searched for it. It didn’t need to be. It was harmless without the ink. As far as I know.’
‘Thomas, I don’t believe your father was wittingly involved.’
‘Neither do I. But if he could have been, … I need to talk to Pasco myself. And I need to speak to Perran Cadabra.’
Trelawney returned the tray to his lap, but stared into the fire. He looked up as Mike spoke.
‘Your father said something specific that’s perturbed you, lad.’
Thomas nodded. ‘He asked me if I wasn’t too close to the Cadabras …’
Hogarth looked at him mischievously but sympathetically. ‘I told you they’d get under your skin.’
Chapter 7
A Man Has Written A Book?
‘A book?’
‘Our cricketer?’
‘Ryan Ford?’ asked Amanda, who’d popped into The Corner Shop for her special order of Ortiz Bonito Del Norte tuna. Tempest was fussy about his tuna. ‘He’s written a book?’
‘Clever lad!’ exclaimed Joan the postlady.
‘Not just a pretty face,’ observed Sylvia, leaning her stop sign on the wall behind the door.
‘Or a good left arm,’ added Dennis.
‘Yes,’ confirmed Mrs Pagely, the librarian, ‘but no, Amanda dear, not Ryan Ford: his guest, John Bailey-Farrell.’
‘Is it a sports thriller?’ enquired Dennis eagerly.
‘It’s an autobiography,’ clarified Joe Mazurek, the milkman, whose float provided a frequent opportunity for mischief on Tempest’s part.
‘But he’s only been alive for five minutes!’ protested Sylvia.
‘I do believe he’s about twenty-eight,’ contributed Amanda.
‘Still …’ Sylvia demurred.
‘I think they write their autobiographies young these days,’ Amanda explained.
‘A sort of Part One, is it?’ suggested Dennis.
‘I expect so,’ opined Gordon French, former headmaster of Sunken Madley School. ‘It’s good publicity for him, the team and the sport.’
‘And ….’ Mrs Pagely intervened firmly in her most effective librarian's voice.
The chatter paused.
‘He would like to throw a little book release party at the library, just for Sunken Madley. No press, just the free local paper for a photograph and a quote for the next edition.’
‘I expect the big launch will be some smart London hotel with all of the national newspapers there,’ offered Sylvia.
‘Oo yes,’ agreed Joan. ‘It’s just the sort of story The Speculator would like.’
‘And The Morning Alarm,’ added Mr French with certainty.
‘It’ll definitely be in Big Pictures Only Magazine,’ opined Sylvia.
‘I like Sunny Side Up Weekly. It’ll be in there for certain,’ stated Joan.
‘Yes, well, this occasion is just for us,’ Mrs Pagely reiterated.
Sylvia clapped her hands. ‘Lovely!’
‘My Jim’ll do a big bake for it,’ said Joan enthusiastically, ‘and I’m sure those lovely boys at The Big Tease will want to help.’
‘Mr Sharma and I will donate however many cartons of juice we might need,’ offered Mrs Sharma.
‘Well, thank you, all,’ Mrs Pagely returned appreciatively. ‘It’s a bit last minute so word won’t leak out, but it will be on Thursday.’
‘We’ll be there,’ Gordon confirmed for the assembly.
‘Oh, ’e’s a lovely lad and no mistake,' stated Sylvia. ‘Never thought I’d see a man to eclipse our Jonathan,' she added, referring to Mrs Pagely’s tall, raven-haired Adonis of an assistant.
‘Yes, I’d have put the teenage girls in the village on restraining orders if it wouldn’t have kept them from the library,’ Mrs Pagely jested, although sincerely protective of her protégé.
‘Oh dear,’ interjected Mrs Sharma. ‘He’d be terribly embarrassed if anyone …’
‘He’s after our Amanda,’ stated Joan saucily.
‘Jonathan and I are just friends!’ objected Amanda.
‘Oh, we know that. No. John Bailey-Farrell.’
‘No ….'
‘The day they had that accident up at The Grange he was there to propose,’ added Joan.
‘What?’ protested Amanda.
‘No, he wasn’t. Just bringing her flowers,’ corrected Mrs Sharma calmly.
‘Oooo!’ duetted Joan and Sylvia.
‘We’d met precisely once,’ Amanda clarified deliberately, ‘and he was being polite and probably helping out the new florists.’
‘Does your inspector know about this?’ asked Joan with a wink.
‘He’s not my —'
‘Yes, dear,’ replied Sylvia.
‘Our relationship is —'
‘Purely professional!' they chorused humorously.
‘I really should be go—'
Ding!
‘And here he is! The man of the hour,’ Dennis greeted John Bailey-Farrell. He was possessed of crisp dark hair curling off a philosopher’s brow, six feet of physical perfection and a complexion that could have had designer skin-care brands queuing around the block. Yet he was modest withal, courteous and respectful. It was unsurprising that Sunken Madley had soon claimed him as one of their own.
Gordon held out his hand ‘Congratulations, John.’
‘You can sign my copy any time you like, dearie!’ nodded Joan, with a wink.
‘Hello, John. It’s Thursday for the big day, or should I say the little day, as it’s local?’
‘Hello Amanda,’ John said warmly, at her question. ‘Yes, it’s Thursday. I know it’s short notice. And please, ladies and gentlemen, keep it quiet.'
Ding!
‘What shall we keep quiet?’
'Hello, Irma.'
'Hello, Mrs Uberhausfest,’ they greeted the graceful nonagenarian with the boyish haircut, as she entered in a purple, ankle-length, soft suede coat.
‘Good day, everybody. Amanda, what is this?’
‘A private village party at the library to launch John’s autobiography.’
‘Balloons!’ cried Mrs Uberhausfest with delight. ‘Yes?’
‘Well, that would be nice,’ responded John eagerly. ‘If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.’
‘Not for nothing am I in the event business.’
‘Oo yes, Irma is “party planner extraordinaire to the over 70s”,’ interpolated Joan.
‘However, I make an exception in your case to include you, even though you are so, so young.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Uberhausfest. I really do appreciate … I mean, I didn’t intend to …’
‘It’s our pleasure,’ Mrs Sharma assured him.
‘But please, remember to keep it …’
‘We understand. Just Village,’ Gordon agreed.
‘And you’re honorary Village, John,’ Mrs Sharma explained.
‘You’re all very kind.’
Ding!
‘Hello Alex,’ came the unified greeting.
‘Hello, luvvies one and all!'
‘There’s going to be a party,’ Joan was the first to say, as she usually was about everything.
‘John’s new autobiography is having a little book release just for the village,’ Amanda elucidated.
‘Well,’ replied Alex enthusiastically, ‘I hope, you’re planning to call on us for help with the finger food!’
‘I wouldn’t dream of passing up the opportunity to include sensational snacks from The Big Tease team,’ smiled John.
‘That’s what I like to hear.’ Alex turned to Mrs Sharma. ‘Have you got —’
‘Your special order allspice.’
‘From Jamaica?’ asked John with interest.
‘Nothing but the best,’ insisted Alex.
‘My grandmother would be pleased to hear you acknowledge that.’
‘It’s well known amongst the baking fraternity.’
‘And sorority,’ added Dennis.
‘Naturally,’ John concurred. ‘My grandmother would be pleased to hear you say that too!’
‘You will be there, won’t you, Amanda, dear?’ asked Mrs Pagely.
'Of course. You can count on it.’
‘Who you bringin’ as your plus-one?’ called Sylvia suggestively. ‘You could ask your inspector, he’s honorary Village too.’
‘He’s not my —’
Mrs Pagely compassionately interposed with a glance towards the floor.
‘What about his illustrious lordship there?’
Tempest shrugged a weary shoulder. His human looked at the librarian gratefully.
‘I’m sure he’ll come if he wants to. I must be off.’
They all made their farewells, and Amanda ushered his ‘illustrious lordship’ out of the shop with a,
‘Phew!’
Chapter 8
A Mother Knows
Even as Amanda exhaled with relief, at escaping the matchmakers in The Corner Shop, the temporary hiatus was interrupted.
‘My dear!’
‘Miss de Havillande?’
‘Just on my way to the shop. I see you’ve just left.’
‘That’s right.’
‘I’m wondering about some flowers. We have put the guests in the best rooms but there may be wet rot in one of them because it smells musty, according to Moffat. Dear Lisa from Skaelheit and Daughters is coming to look at the roof, so I must get back.’
‘I can bring some, Miss de Havillande,’ offered Amanda helpfully.
‘What about your asthma?’ asked Cynthia with concern.