Cold Case in Nuala (The Inspector de Silva Mysteries Book 10)

by Harriet Steel

  ‘What did I say?’ he shouted triumphantly over the din.

  With the wind streaming past him, the playboy prince was almost unrecognisable behind his huge goggles. As he swung the Bentley into the finishing straight, he was already fifty yards ahead of the next competitor. De Silva and Jane watched the other cars fly past in a blur of silver, red, green, and blue. The sand-coloured dust kicked up by their wheels blew into the crowd. Jane’s nose wrinkled at the grit and the smell of exhaust fumes. She definitely preferred the scent of Shanti’s roses. Yet the excitement was infectious. She cheered on with the rest as the Bentley took the chequered flag.

  By the time the next four cars finished, the Bentley’s speed had dropped to a slow crawl. The playboy prince tugged off his leather cap and removed his goggles. His dark hair was plastered to his head and his face was coated with dust. Smiling, he accepted congratulations from the hordes of well-wishers now running alongside him. They draped garlands of marigolds around his neck and piled more flowers into the car until it looked like a garden on wheels.

  All the other finishers were marshalled into a line. With the Bentley leading, they drove slowly towards the square. As he and Jane were swept along in the following crowd, de Silva noticed that Charlie Frobisher was not far ahead of them. They managed to catch up with him as the main street widened and the press of people thinned a little. He beamed.

  ‘Good afternoon! This is a pleasant surprise. May I introduce my friend, Ruth Bailey?’

  De Silva studied the young lady while the introductions were made. She was slim and pretty with dark, curly hair and an infectious smile. As the four of them continued along the street, she chatted to Jane while de Silva and Frobisher talked about the cars. Eventually they arrived at the square in front of the Crown Hotel. Red, white, and blue bunting had been strung across its façade and Union Jacks fluttered from the flagpoles. More bunting hung in scalloped garlands across the front of a dais on which a table had been set up. The Clutterbucks waited there with the senior officials of the rally’s organising committee and their wives. De Silva saw that Archie had donned the elaborate chain of office that denoted he was the committee’s president. On the table the coveted trophy, the Caldicott Cup, awaited the victorious driver. It was named after the wealthy tea planter and motor enthusiast who had founded the rally. There were also medals for those who had taken the second and third places.

  The three drivers stood in a line while Archie made a short speech, but despite his booming tones de Silva found it difficult to make out what he was saying above the excited hubbub of the crowd.

  ‘Can you understand a word?’ he asked Jane.

  She shook her head.

  ‘I expect it’s unlikely to be a great loss,’ he whispered mischievously. ‘Archie’s not celebrated for his oratory.’

  ‘So that’s your boss,’ said Ruth, looking both at Frobisher and de Silva. ‘He looks very affable. Is he really?’

  ‘Would you say so, de Silva?’ asked Frobisher with a grin.

  ‘Some of the time.’

  Ruth laughed.

  The speech over, Perera stepped up to receive the Caldicott Cup, shaking hands with everyone in the line until he came to Florence who stood ready to make the presentation. He certainly was a confident fellow, thought de Silva as Perera bowed to her with a flourish then turned briefly to the crowd and flashed a radiant smile revealing perfect teeth. Probably it would never occur to him that a lady, even one who could be as forbidding as Florence, would be impervious to his charms. In any case, this time he was right. Resplendent in a lilac dress with a cartwheel-sized, chiffon-swathed hat to match, Florence waited for him to turn back to face her and, when he did, favoured him with a warm smile of her own. Though too far away to be certain, he wondered wasn’t that a blush appearing on Florence’s cheek? De Silva thought it might well be.

  ‘She must have gone home to change since we saw her earlier,’ remarked Jane who stood at his elbow. ‘Perhaps she wanted a little rest too,’ she added, somewhat feelingly.

  Perera turned again to the crowd and raised the trophy above his head. It gleamed in the sunshine and the crowd responded with cheers and applause.

  ‘All over for another four years,’ said de Silva smiling at Jane. ‘You can rest to your heart’s content now, my love.’ He turned to Ruth Bailey. ‘I hope you enjoyed the day, ma’am.’

  ‘Very much so. It’s been fascinating seeing the cars.’

  ‘At the moment Ruth’s working on administrative duties at the base. But she’s applied to train for one of the crews that maintain and repair the aircraft.’

  ‘That’s marvellous,’ said Jane. ‘I’m sure you’ll be very good at it.’

  Ruth laughed. ‘I haven’t been accepted yet, but if I am, I’ll do my best to be. In England, my family have farmed for generations. As a child, I was always interested in finding out how the farm machinery worked.’

  The crowd was dispersing and already the reddening sun was half hidden behind the Crown Hotel’s sprawling mock-Tudor façade. ‘I promised Ruth a cocktail in the bar,’ said Charlie Frobisher. ‘We’d be delighted if you’d join us.’

  For a moment, de Silva hesitated. He had never been into the Crown as a guest, only on official business. There was no reason why he shouldn’t accept, but he dreaded any kind of awkwardness. Not all the British were like Charlie and Ruth.

  ‘If you’re sure we won’t be intruding, we’d love to,’ said Jane. ‘Wouldn’t we, Shanti?’

  He overcame his scruples. ‘Yes, it would be a great pleasure. Thank you.’

  **

  The bar at the Crown Hotel was crowded, but they found a table and were soon comfortably installed. Relieved to see that he wasn’t the only local amongst the clientele, de Silva began to relax and enjoy himself.

  In contrast to the entrance hall that, with its coloured glass ceiling, had a rather Art Nouveau air, in the bar the designers of the hotel had chosen the Tudor style of the building’s exterior. The room combined baronial grandeur with comfort. Its ceiling was coffered in dark wood, and a dark-green paper patterned with tendrils and leaves covered the walls. Opposite the bar itself, there was a massive stone fireplace. It was decorated with brightly coloured and gilded heraldic shields, and the tawny gleam of copper fire accessories warmed its inglenooks. The grate was piled high with logs, more for effect, de Silva assumed, than from any real intention of lighting them. The air smelled of resin, mellow tobacco, whisky and well-aged brandy, with an underlying whiff of dog.

  A waiter appeared bringing cocktail menus. As he looked down the list of exotic creations, de Silva saw that they had exotic prices to match, but Charlie Frobisher insisted it was his treat, and it seemed churlish to argue. All the same, de Silva ended up ordering a whisky and soda, but Jane was more adventurous and asked for a Mary Pickford. ‘I’ve heard it was invented for her by a bartender at a hotel in Havana when she was on holiday there with her husband, Douglas Fairbanks, and their friend Charlie Chaplin.’

  ‘Hmm; rum, pineapple juice, and grenadine,’ said de Silva, raising an eyebrow. ‘It sounds a little stronger than your usual sherry.’

  ‘It’s just what I need after standing all afternoon,’ Jane countered, albeit with a smile.

  Ruth decided to have the same, but Charlie, who preferred whisky to rum, chose an Old Fashioned.

  As they chatted, de Silva discovered that Ruth Bailey had come out to Ceylon about a year previously. Before joining up, she’d lived with an uncle and aunt in Colombo and worked as a secretary at Government House.

  ‘My uncle is retired now, but he came out from England forty years ago.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to meeting him,’ said Charlie. ‘He spent all of his career in the Justice Secretariat, which is an area I’m interested in.’

  Ruth smiled at him.

  ‘And how did you like Colombo?’ asked Jane. She took a sip of her cocktail. Served in a delicate glass, it was a pretty shade of pink, garnished with a maraschino cher
ry.

  ‘It was interesting. Unlike anywhere I’d ever lived before. The Hill Country is much more peaceful though, and so beautiful. Charlie had already told me a lot about Nuala, and it’s lovely to see it for myself.’

  ‘Yes, Shanti and I prefer it up here. But when I first came to Ceylon, I worked in Colombo. Shanti was in the police force there.’

  ‘Was that where you met?’

  ‘Yes, it was thanks to my own carelessness. I was walking down the street one day, and I didn’t notice a man following me until it was too late. He snatched my handbag and when I reported the theft to the police, Shanti was assigned to the case.’

  ‘There had been a spate of thefts in that part of town,’ said de Silva. ‘Eventually we caught the gang, but sadly most of what they took, including Jane’s handbag, was never recovered.’

  ‘But Shanti was very conscientious about keeping me informed of his progress,’ said Jane with a smile.

  De Silva chuckled. ‘I was trying hard to convince you of my abilities.’

  ‘You certainly did that, dear.’ Jane raised her glass to him and took a sip of her cocktail.

  ‘Do you have lots of plans for your leave?’ she asked Ruth.

  ‘Charlie’s already shown me some of the countryside and we go to Colombo soon. My uncle and aunt have asked us to visit them for a few days, but after that it will be time to return to the base.’

  ‘What a shame. I hope it won’t be too long before you come back again.’

  ‘I hope so too.’

  There was a commotion over by the entrance doors. De Silva looked up. It was Johnny Perera surrounded by an entourage of friends. With him also, and straining excitedly at its leash, was a large German Shepherd dog. Its cavernous red jaw opened wide displaying sharp white teeth as it let out a volley of barks.

  De Silva recognised the man in formal evening wear who swiftly approached the group as being the hotel manager. He visibly flinched when the German Shepherd lunged in his direction, to be brought up short barely a foot away by the leash. A conversation ensued that resulted in the party being ushered through a door at the far end of the bar.

  ‘It leads to one of the private rooms,’ said Charlie Frobisher. ‘No doubt the manager would prefer Perera’s party to be safely contained there.’

  They might be contained, thought de Silva, but whether they would be safe was another matter. Still, he doubted many people would begrudge Perera a celebration. He had driven magnificently.

  **

  ‘What a charming young lady Ruth is,’ said Jane as they drove home later on. It was a balmy evening. Moonlight cast its beam on the road ahead, making it seem like a snaking river; the black velvet sky was full of stars. ‘I hope we see her again.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be surprised.’ De Silva raised a hand from the steering wheel to stifle a yawn. It had been a long day, although a very enjoyable one. ‘She and Charlie seem to get on very well and to have a lot in common.’

  ‘Yes. Both sporty and practical.’

  Jane fell silent as they left the main part of town and reached the residential area where Sunnybank was situated.

  ‘You’re very quiet all of a sudden,’ said de Silva.

  ‘I was thinking about the war. It seems so far away in Europe. I’m ashamed to say I sometimes forget there’s anything going on. Meeting Charlie and Ruth brings it all back and makes me fearful about what will happen.’

  He reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘I don’t think there’s any need to be afraid of the war touching us here.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right.’ Jane sighed. ‘I hope you are. I hate to think of lovely young people like Charlie and Ruth coming to harm.’

  The Morris turned into Sunnybank’s drive and when he’d stopped the car, de Silva got out and went to open Jane’s door. She looked up at him. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil the day.’

  He kissed her cheek as he helped her out. ‘You haven’t. And I understand how you feel. I don’t like the thought either. Now, shall we go in? I hope Billy and Bella haven’t been getting up to mischief in our absence.’

  He did understand, he thought, as they went inside, but the situation affected him differently. Even though as part of the British Empire, Ceylon was officially at war with Nazi Germany, her people had not seen action. Attitudes to the rule of the British had changed considerably since the Great War. If the people of Ceylon were called upon once again to fight for the mother country, who knew how they would respond? In any case, he didn’t intend to worry about events whose outcome seemed too far off to predict.

  ‘Here they are,’ said Jane. ‘Sleeping like angels.’

  Billy and Bella woke and stretched then came over to be stroked. De Silva reached down and picked Bella up. ‘Have you missed me?’ he asked.

  Jane smiled. ‘And you were the one who doubted we should have cats.’

  Chapter 2

  ‘Do you plan to go to church today?’ de Silva asked as they sat down to breakfast the next morning. ‘I’ll drive you there and pick you up afterwards if you like.’

  ‘It’s very kind of you, dear, but I think I’ll stay at home this morning. I’m a little tired after yesterday. I might try to make some progress on the shawl for Emerald’s baby.’ She looked up as one of the servants, a new addition to the staff at Sunnybank, brought the tea. ‘Thank you, Leela. A poached egg on toast for me, please. The sahib will have his usual hopper and two eggs.’

  ‘Yes, memsahib. It will be ready very soon.’

  The eggs had no sooner been brought than the telephone rang in the hall. Leela reappeared in the doorway.

  ‘It’s a call for you from the Residence, sahib.’

  De Silva’s heart sank. He put down his napkin and pushed back his chair. A telephone call from his boss on a Sunday morning sounded ominous. The prospect of a restful day amongst his vegetables and flowers faded faster than morning dew under the tropical sun.

  ‘I’d better take it.’

  ‘Shall I take the eggs back to the kitchen to keep warm, sahib?’

  ‘There’s no need.’

  In the hall, he picked up the receiver. ‘Good morning, sir. Is there a problem?’

  ‘You might say that. There’s been a spot of bother up at the Moncrieff plantation. At the moment I’m not sure how serious it is, but we have to assume there needs to be further investigation.’

  De Silva racked his brains, but the name Moncrieff meant nothing to him.

  ‘Perera and some of his friends went up there last night after they’d had dinner at the Crown,’ Archie continued. ‘There was some business about him spending time there when he was a lad and wanting to see the place again. Why the thought popped into his head all of a sudden, I’ve no idea. Anyway, he took that damned great dog of his with them. It’s only a young ’un, but totally out of control if you ask my opinion.’ Archie paused for breath.

  ‘Does anyone live at the plantation now, sir?’ asked de Silva.

  ‘Only Marina Moncrieff, and a few staff of course. She’s the wife of Donald Moncrieff.’

  ‘And he is?’

  Archie gave a harumph. ‘I’ll explain all that in due course. The thing is, while Perera and his pals were having a look around the place, the dog slipped its leash. There was a hue and cry to find the beast. They heard it barking, that was how they tracked it, and at first they thought it had got itself stuck somewhere, but when they got to it, it wasn’t in difficulties. It had been doing a bit of digging. Dogs are always finding some damn thing to dig up, y’know. Darcy has a fondness for it. The older and smellier the find, the better.’

  De Silva waited for Archie to get to the point. He hoped he wasn’t going to be treated to details of the archaeological interests of every dog his boss had ever known.

  ‘De Silva?’

  ‘Still here, sir.’

  ‘Well, to cut a long story short, the dog, Caesar I believe it’s called, found some old bones. At first, Perera and his pals thought they were the remain
s of a family pet. But one of his group’s a medic. It seems old man Perera insists on his son travelling with one when he’s racing. Don’t let on to David Hebden, but if his son has an accident and needs treatment, old man Perera won’t have local doctors dealing with it. Anyway, this doctor fellow had his doubts about the bones. They found a few of the servants and got them to do a bit more digging around. It seems the bones may be human.’

  De Silva groaned inwardly. As he’d feared, it was the end of his quiet Sunday.

  ‘I’m going up to the plantation shortly,’ Archie went on. ‘I’ll pick you up on my way. I can fill you in a bit more as we drive.’

  ‘Very well. You said only Marina Moncrieff lives at the plantation now. Does she know what’s happened?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Apparently, she didn’t come out to see what was going on, but Perera and his friends didn’t arrive until late, and it was even later when they made their unpleasant discovery. Maybe the servants didn’t want to disturb her. We’ll have to find out more about that.’

  ‘I’m not familiar with the plantation. Whereabouts is it?’

  ‘Off the Kandy road. About ten miles from here.’

  De Silva was puzzled. He must have driven that road a hundred times, but he’d never noticed it.

  Back in the dining room, Jane looked at him sympathetically. ‘Bad news?’

  ‘It looks that way. It seems that Johnny Perera and some of his chums stumbled on a suspicious situation last night.’ He explained about the dog and the finding of the bones.

  ‘And the plantation belongs to a family called Moncrieff,’ mused Jane. ‘I know I’ve heard the name before. I think Florence may have mentioned a lady called Isobel Moncrieff, but she didn’t speak of her warmly. If I remember rightly, she gave the impression that she didn’t like her.’