by Holly Bell
‘How many Cornish hand-written books can there be around? Indeed Miss Cadabra. Let us proceed!’
On the doorstep, before ringing the bell Amanda took a moment to suppress her excitement, as the inspector requested that she allow him to conduct the interview.
Moffat opened the door and ushered Amanda and Trelawney into the small salon where Lawley was standing, awaiting them nervously.
‘Inspector, Amanda, how can I help?’
‘Let’s sit down, shall we?’ invited Trelawney in a friendly tone. ‘Mr Lawley, in the course of this investigation, we find ourselves in need of a linguist.’
Simon appeared relieved. ‘Whatever I can do.’
‘Good. Is there any language known to you in which the names Circumference, Beautiful Hill or Valley Arm figure in the geography of a country?’
‘Circumference? Hm, well, there must be scores of places called Beautiful Hill or Valley Arm, in a variety of languages, but Circumference …?’
Trelawney turned to Amanda,
‘In Cornish; it’s … Miss Cadabra?’
‘Kehseydh.’
Simon Lawley appeared to be searching his linguistic memory banks. ‘Hm … does that word have any other meaning?’ he enquired.
‘Well …’ Amanda was unsure. Grandpa appeared at her side and uttered quietly,
‘Equator, bian.’
Trelawney could not help his gaze momentarily flickering to the newcomer who then, with a brief smile in the inspector’s direction, promptly left.
‘Equator,’ Amanda repeated aloud.
‘Equator,’ repeated Simon thoughtfully. ‘Well, the obvious one would Ecuador – that’s Spanish for equator.’
‘Ecuador!’ exclaimed Amanda. ‘Yes, why not?’
‘Thank you, Mr Lawley,’ responded Trelawney. ‘And Beautiful Hill?’
‘Well, the most famous place matching that in Ecuador, that I know of, is Llanganates. That means beautiful hill. It’s a national park.’
‘Ah Lowarth – Park,’ said Amanda.
‘Does it include mountains?’ asked the inspector.
‘It does indeed. Very hazardous ones too. And a legend of Inca gold.’
‘Mr Lawley, I must ask you, have you ever visited Ecuador or the Andes Mountains?’
‘No.’
‘Do you recognise the book that Miss Cadabra will now show you?’
She brought it forth and passed it to him.
‘Oh yes! This is the one, Amanda, which I was telling you about. The one that was given to me but I couldn’t read it, so I passed it on.’
‘Did you ever discuss this book with Miss Gibbs?’ Trelawney enquired.
‘Well ... I ... I may have mentioned it in passing ... or maybe ... we were talking about books and languages, and yes … I’m pretty sure it did come up.’
The inspector asked his next question. ‘Can you tell me the name of the person to whom you gave it, Mr Lawley?’
‘Oh …. Erm … oh yes, Old Hoarder. Erm … Lynford Warder.’
‘Thank you. Now could you tell me from whom you received this book?’
‘Yes, it was from one of my fellow tutors. He teaches statistics.’
‘And did he say how he got it?’
‘Er… yes. He’d got back from South America. Could have been Ecuador, I suppose. Some hikers had found it in the park where he was staying. They saw the title was English, so they passed it onto him.’
‘Can you recall the name of this tutor?’
‘Shaw. Peregrin Shaw.’
‘Was either Mr Warder or Mr Shaw known to Samantha Gibbs?’
‘Erm, yes, as a matter of fact.’
‘In what capacity?’
‘She dated them both very briefly.’
Aha, the plot thickens, thought Trelawney. ‘Can you tell me the order in which she dated them?’
‘Well, let’s see …. Shaw first, I think, and then Samantha and I became friends, and then it was Warder.’
‘Do you have a telephone number for Peregrin Shaw?’
‘Of course. Shall I text you his contact details?’
‘Please. Now, if you wouldn’t mind,’ the inspector requested calmly.
‘Of course.’
Details received, Trelawney stood up, and Amanda followed suit.
‘Thank you, Mr Lawley. You’ve been most helpful.’
They left immediately and drove back to the library.
‘Miss Cadabra, continue reading the journal, if you will.’
Trelawney took out his phone.
‘Nikolaides? … Yes, I want you to track down a Lynford Warder. He was teaching at Hertscourt University. Might still be there … Yes, it’s urgent. Baker with you? … All right. Thanks.’
He rang off and redialled.
‘Baker, how’s your Spanish?’
‘Just conversational, sir.’
‘I want you to contact the Llanganates National Park in Ecuador. I’m sure they get lots of tourists and will be able to understand you one way or another. I need to know of any accidents involving English climbers during the past two years. Any details at all.’
Trelawney hung up, paused, then searched on his phone and tapped a number.
‘… This is a message for Mr Peregrin Shaw from Detective Inspector Trelawney. I would appreciate your help with an ongoing investigation. Please could you call me as soon as you receive this message.’ He repeated his mobile number and hung up, immediately redialling.
‘This is Detective Inspector Trelawney. Please could you put me through to Mr Gibbs … Yes, it is urgent … Hello, Mr Gibbs … Yes … No, I have not made an arrest. I have something better … a possibility of uncovering the truth … Are you? Please. Yes, Sunken Madley Library. Thank you.’
Amanda raised her eyes from the journal.
‘Any luck?’ she asked.
‘Damian Gibbs is at the Asthma Centre and will be here in ten minutes.’
‘Shall I leave?’
‘No. Stay if you would, Miss Cadabra. You may have a softening effect on the man.’
‘Just as you wish, Inspector,’ said Amanda compliantly.
She imagined that she was adequately concealing her intense curiosity and excited anticipation of the interview. With anyone else she might have been successful. But not with the inspector.
Chapter 37
The Writer, and Amanda’s Shortcut
‘Mr Gibbs, would you please remind me of your connection with South America,’ requested Trelawney, having seated his interviewee in the library’s private space of the Situation Room. Damian was pleased to see Amanda and her presence did seem to reassure him somewhat. He answered the inspector’s question, confidently.
‘Certainly. It’s a favourite place of mine for team-building trips.’
‘It’s a general destination favoured by you, and by some members of your social circle?’
‘Yes.’
‘Including your friend who died?’
‘Oh, Ainsley. Yes, sadly … in fact … yes.’
‘Do you know how he died and where?’
‘In Ecuador, from a climbing accident. He disappeared at first and then his body was found.’
‘And your friend, Ainsley …?’
‘Storridge.’
‘Thank you. Mr Storridge was known to Miss Gibbs?’
‘Yes, all right … he knew Samantha far better than I would have liked. In fact, it was at my suggestion that he went abroad, to put some distance between himself and Sam, for a time. It seemed to be for the best. Oh, I don’t know, sometimes they both talked as though what they had was the real thing … how could I tell? But she was so young, Inspector. When Ainsley went off on his trip, I admit I was relieved. And then he didn't come back, Sam received no word …’
‘Do you know who his guide was?’
‘Well, no … I didn’t know anything of his exact plans. Did he have a guide? I suppose he must have done.�
��
‘Were you or any other of your friends in South America at the time?’
‘No, everyone was busy here.’
‘May I ask a question?’ Amanda enquired.
‘Of course,’ Gibbs answered her.
‘Damian, when Sam heard Mr Storridge had disappeared and then the news came that he was dead … was she upset, do you think?’
‘She didn’t seem ... I don’t know, Amanda, Sam had become one of those people who always find a way to get what they want. I think he was just another means to an end, I’m afraid. She wasn’t always like that, you know. That dumb brunette, fashion-sheep act was just a façade. She was bright, had a retentive memory, she … didn’t need to do the things she did.’
‘I expect Sam made the best decisions she could at the time, Damian. And maybe she cared about all sorts of things more than she showed,’ Amanda suggested kindly, in spite of her own misgivings on that score.
Gibbs smiled at her gratefully. The inspector concluded,
‘Thank you, Mr Gibbs. You’ve taken us on a step further.’
‘Where are you then? I have been assured by …,’ Gibbs was switching back to his powerful business-magnate position, but Trelawney forestalled him.
‘I have only a few hours grace before an arrest must be made. So, if you’ll excuse me.’
‘Of course.’
As Gibbs left, the sergeant approached.
‘Baker, the very man,’ said Trelawney. ‘How quickly can you get me the file on the death of Ainsley Storridge, body found in Ecuador just over a year ago?’
‘I’m on it, sir.’
Amanda, before taking up the journal again, remarked,
‘So, the writer of this journal was Ainsley Storridge with whom Samantha had been involved. That gives us the connection between Samantha and the book. The book incriminates the guide. So … blackmail?’
‘Yes, but to do that she’d have to have known who the guide was. Let’s assume she did find out.’
‘So, she asked the guide to meet her in the stacks of Sunken Madley library to discuss terms?’
‘And it ended in murder.’
‘That leaves us with just two questions,’ said Amanda.
‘Who was the guide?’ supplied Trelawney.
‘And how did she know who they were?’
‘Someone who was in Ecuador at the time. Someone connected with Sunken Madley in some way. That would narrow it down significantly.’
‘No one you’ve interviewed in the village was there,’ Amanda pointed out.
‘Unless … someone is lying.’
Amanda returned to the journal and Trelawney dived into the file on Ainsley Storridge.
‘Baker, according to this file, Storridge’s phone was never found, but his laptop is in evidence storage. In Essex. We need it. He’ll have surely left some trace of the guide he hired. Ask Nikolaides to check, call or visit all of the suspects and ascertain if any of them has any connection with Ecuador. Especially the men: Ryan Ford, John Bailey-Farrell and Simon Lawley, any of the men, in fact.’
‘Just the ones at the library party?’
‘Every male who had any opportunity.’
‘Right you are, sir.’
Trelawney checked his watch.
‘Time. If only we had more time. There’s a chain here.’ He looked at the journal in Amanda’s hands. ‘If only this book could talk.’
There was a pause before she spoke quietly.
‘There may be a shortcut.’
He turned his head towards her, hopefully.
Amanda looked troubled but calm. ‘I didn’t want to do it. You see, some things have very bad ... feelings attached to them. And if I do this, I’ll experience them, as though whatever it is was happening to me.’ Trelawney was looking mystified. ‘Remember the furniture and things in the workshop? I showed you how objects can keep recordings of things that happened in the past and play them back? So anyone with the right level of sensitivity can see them?’
The inspector sat down beside her, and enquired softly, ‘You think the journal …?’
‘I don’t know how clear it would be. A lot of people have handled it, including you and your team … I couldn’t promise anything at all.’
‘If you’re willing to try, Miss Cadabra.’
‘All right. Not here,’ Amanda replied.
‘Back at your cottage?’
‘Yes.’ She was now resolute.
‘I don’t want to put you under pressure, Miss Cadabra, but could you do it now?’ Trelawney asked.
Amanda passed the journal to him to return to its evidence bag, and stood up. ‘Yes, let’s go.’
Chapter 38
Under the Covers
By the firelight only, they arranged themselves. Tempest, alert, placed himself beside Amanda on the sofa. Trelawney was sitting opposite with the tea tray on the table between them.
‘Are you ready, Miss Cadabra?’
‘Yes, Inspector. If you give it to me in its evidence envelope, please.’
He handed the journal across and she put in on her lap. Amanda got out her Pocket-wand. She felt awkward doing this in front of him and glanced up.
‘I’ll look at the fire,’ Trelawney offered understandingly.
‘Thank you.’
Amanda closed her eyes, began deep breathing, shutting out his presence, focusing only on what she must do. She needed more than a brief snatch of the journal’s past; she needed its entire history. It was deep magic and the first time she was attempting the spell. She opened her eyes and looking at the object on her lap pronounced.
‘Framth dallma dho ndwedha araferhi eodha reccwhel. Boclyv dho wme agertyn, eodha reccist alymdisquez wme.’
Amanda gave her wand the slightest flick then returned it to her pocket. Carefully, she reached into the plastic cover and took out the journal. She closed her eyes again just in time. It had already begun …
Machines pressing, rhythmic noise, light, dark, light, dark, thread flying up and down, more pressing …
‘Factory …’ murmured Amanda, trying to keep her consciousness separate from the book. ‘Into a … box.’ Dark … movement, plonked down, lifted up … light … a man … ‘On a shelf… in shop … little shop …’
Suddenly a voice:
‘Oh wow! How cool is that!’ Dark hair around a girl’s face. Being hugged to her chest. Feeling her glee. Through the air to the counter. Into gift wrap and paper carrier bag, crackle crinkle … journey … time passing …
A man’s laugh …
‘For me? You shouldn’t have, darling …’ Paper opens. A man’s face smiling. The sound of a kiss. ‘Oh, it’s marvellous! I promise to record every detail of my trip in this …’
A snug darkness followed … like sleep …. The man … a pencil writing the first words in the book … excitement … jogging up and down … in a rucksack. Coming out at night, by the campfire, receiving words, a pen, gliding quietly over the lines … Suspicion … unease … Back into the rucksack. Rucksack to pocket, pocket to rucksack. Hands touching, checking always: yes, still here, still safe … Now unease growing to alarm … fear … terror. Night … out of the rucksack … campfire … moving away from it. A whispered wish and then falling ... falling, falling, crack, bounce … lying still … hot sun …
Amanda inhaled sharply, letting go of the book and opened her eyes. The inspector was regarding her with concern.
‘Are you all right, Miss Cadabra?’
She spoke quietly, her eyes still glazed ‘She bought it. Samantha. It was a present for Storridge. — I think she was genuinely fond of him, you know. — It was in his luggage, he took it on the trip. Things were fine but then he got suspicious, then very much afraid and then I — the book — was falling. Must have been down a mountain or a cliff.’
‘That’s how Samantha knew there was a journal. She gave it to Storridge. So when the body was found and the book wasn’t on it,
she must have wondered. Miss Cadabra, would you be able to continue?’
Amanda swallowed and nodded. She closed her eyes and touched the book on her lap.
Voices … Not English … Spanish? … Faces, young faces, surprised, intrigued. Being picked up ... pages turned. Into a pocket … into the light ... one of the Spanish speakers and now a man … who also speaks Spanish but then … amongst it all ‘thank you.’ Unmistakeably English.
Pages turning … apathy … darkness … then into the light up and … onto a shelf. … Now into a box … a journey … a familiar face: Simon Lawley … picked up, inspected … Back into the box … another face … another flick through ... darkness … Another face … Jonathan … yet another fleeting perusal. Back onto another shelf … in the stacks.
Amanda opened her eyes again. ‘It got passed from person to person, but I don’t know who they were except for Simon and Jonathan.’
‘Let’s see if this will help,’ offered Trelawney. He reached down into his bag, took out his laptop, opened it, tapped away for a few minutes, then put the machine on the table. He turned the screen towards Amanda, showing several photos of men.
She leaned forward and pointed. ‘That was the man who opened the book from its wrappings.’
‘That’s Ainsley Storridge.’
‘Then it must have been some Ecuadorian hikers who picked it up, and gave it to … that man, second from the left, middle row.’
‘Peregrin Shaw.’
‘Then it was in a box, and the next face was, yes, Simon Lawley, and the next was … him. Bottom row, first on the right.’
‘Lynford Warder.’
‘And the next was Jonathan and then it went into the stacks,’ Amanda finished off.
‘Excellent. So, Samantha wasn’t just idly dating, she was following the chain of the book.’
‘She either struck lucky with Shaw or she was on the lookout for anyone who had visited Ecuador within the right time-frame.’
‘Can you carry on, Miss Cadabra? Have some tea first.’
Amanda took a few sips.