Chapter 8
‘Was the visit worthwhile?’ asked Jane when he arrived home.
She shuddered when he came to the part about the shotgun. ‘Those poor monkeys. I’m surprised they haven’t decamped for good. I’m glad he didn’t hurt any of them.’
‘I noticed plenty of bullet holes in the target. He’s probably a good shot.’
‘That must be a relief to Margaret.’ She paused before continuing. ‘It’s strange how one can be acquainted with someone for years and have so little knowledge of what their home life is like. Margaret’s always well dressed and seems happy, but do you think they have money worries?’
‘It’s hard to say. Clearly McTaggart lost a significant amount of money in this investment. But I can only guess at the extent to which it has harmed their financial situation. The bungalow was shabby, but it doesn’t necessarily prove they’re hard up. Some people are not interested in that kind of thing. The garden was large and very pretty. Perhaps Mrs McTaggart takes more pleasure in that. Hopefully, for most of the time she’s able to enjoy it without needing to dodge bullets. She may not be aware of any money problems. He indicated that he doesn’t tell her everything.’
‘I don’t think I should like that,’ said Jane.
He laughed. ‘Then I must tell you about these gambling debts I’ve been running up.’
She picked up a cushion and threw it at him; he caught it deftly. ‘Only joking.’
‘Good. Now seriously, do you think we should be looking on the colonel as a suspect?’
‘It’s too early to rule anyone out completely, but he’s not high on my list. Nor are any of the other investors McTaggart told me about, although I’ll keep hold of their addresses for the moment. From where we found the skeleton, however, the most plausible explanation seems to be that the murder took place at the plantation. Otherwise, the killer would have had to transport the body all the way out there to bury it, and it would have been difficult to do that without being spotted.’
‘And how would McTaggart or the other investors have known about the area where the grave was dug? I agree it’s far more likely the murder was carried out by someone who knew the plantation well and could move about it without attracting suspicion.’
‘So that narrows the field to the family or the staff, not forgetting Perera, of course. We’re back to my needing to find Marina as soon as possible.’
‘I see why you hang on to the possibility of Perera being involved but I also wonder if Peter Flint was telling the truth when he said he had no idea where Marina was. From what you told me about him and what I remember of her, they would also make an attractive couple. If he was running the plantation and her husband wasn’t taking much interest, she might have become reliant on Flint. It would be easy for that to lead to something more, especially if she was lonely and wanted someone to comfort her.’
He turned the idea over in his mind and this time didn’t make light of Jane’s contribution. ‘You may have something there. In any case, I’ve been thinking that another trip to the plantation might be helpful. Although Flint mentioned that the plantation still wasn’t doing as well as it should, the land looked in good order to me. I might pay a visit to that office of his later on tonight and see what I can find out from the accounts. There may be ledgers that will show how the place is really doing. Maybe Flint has been deliberately recording low profits, either to keep some of them for himself, and if you’re right, Marina, or in case Moncrieff came back and started squandering money again.’
‘But the latter would mean Flint believed he might return,’ said Jane.
‘Yes, leading us back to the idea that if Marina is guilty, she acted on her own.’
‘You will be careful, won’t you? It’s very remote up there if anything goes wrong. Why not take Prasanna or Nadar with you?’
‘Maybe I’ll take one of them. I’ll think about it.’
‘Just promise me you won’t indulge in any foolish heroics.’
‘Account ledgers are more likely to be dusty than dangerous.’
‘As long as they’re all you encounter.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll take care that no one is around before I go in. I noticed the plantation office when I went down with Flint to speak to the workers. It’s a good distance from the main house and Isobel’s bungalow.’
‘What about where he lives?’
‘I haven’t been there, so I’m not sure, but I promise you I’ll take care.’
Jane rested her chin on her hand. ‘I still think it’s odd that Isobel confided in Margaret McTaggart. I don’t recall them being friends but then at the time Donald Moncrieff disappeared, we hadn’t been in Nuala long, and I hadn’t got to know anyone well. Florence might remember. I could ask her if you like.’
‘Why not? But please make sure she understands she mustn’t mention you’ve asked.’
‘You needn’t worry. Whatever her faults, she knows how to be discreet when it’s important. I don’t suppose there’s been any news of Marina yet?’
‘I didn’t look in at the station on the way home, but I’ll go straight after lunch. I hope Prasanna and Nadar will have tracked down this family that Rosamund Collins went to work for after she left Isobel. If they have, I may have to go up to Ella to see them unless I can reach them on the telephone.’
One of the servants appeared at the door to the verandah, announcing that lunch was ready. In his enjoyment of an excellent curry made of green beans, a dish of spiced cauliflower, a deliciously creamy dahl and several tasty side dishes, de Silva almost forgot that he still seemed to be a long way off from solving this case.
After they had finished the meal with slices of mango, papaya, and banana, he dipped his fingers in the bowl of water by his plate and wiped them on his napkin. ‘Delicious.’
He stood up and came around to Jane’s side of the table to kiss her cheek. ‘I’m sorry to hurry away, but there may be a lot to do this afternoon.’
‘Will you telephone me if you’re going to be late?’
‘Of course.’
Jane smiled. ‘When have I heard that before?’
**
Prasanna was just putting down the telephone when de Silva came into the station. He and Nadar both looked pleased with themselves.
‘I take it you’ve had a successful morning.’
‘Yes, sir. The matter of the goats is all sorted out,’ said Prasanna. He held out a piece of paper. ‘And the postmaster in Ella confirms that the Pelham family still live there. He gave me their address and telephone number.’
‘So, I may as well retire,’ said de Silva.
Briefly, Prasanna looked chastened, but then he must have noticed the twinkle in his boss’s eye for he smiled. ‘Not yet I hope, sir.’
De Silva took the piece of paper. He was glad to hear that the Pelhams owned a telephone. The road from Nuala to Ella was rough and winding. The journey was more pleasantly accomplished by train, where one could enjoy the magnificent views of hills covered by tea plantations, but the train journey was a slow one, and he was keen to find Rosamund Collins as soon as possible.
His call was answered by a servant who went to fetch Mrs Pelham.
‘Miss Collins left us almost four years ago,’ she said when de Silva had explained what he wanted to know. She sounded puzzled. ‘May I ask why you want to contact her?’
‘We think she may have information relevant to an inquiry into events that happened in Nuala while she lived here. I hasten to say, there’s no suggestion that she is implicated except as a witness.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. I always found her a very respectable lady. It wasn’t through our choice that she left.’
‘What was the reason for her going?’
‘She’d come to us to act as a companion to my mother who became very fond of her, but when my mother died, Rosamund decided that she wanted to enter a convent. We weren’t surprised. She was a quiet, gentle person and her faith was clearly very important to her. We
heard from her from time to time after she left us, and I had the impression that she had at last found the life that was right for her.’
De Silva reached for his notebook and pen. ‘Is the convent here in Ceylon?’
‘Yes. St Ursula’s in Colombo.’
He thanked her and rang off. Mrs Pelham had seemed like a kindly lady. From her description of Rosamund Collins, she had been far better suited to the Pelham family than to the acerbic Isobel Moncrieff. He went out to the public room. Prasanna and Nadar looked up from their work.
‘Good work, you two,’ he said. ‘I think we’ve tracked Miss Collins down. She’s living in Colombo at St Ursula’s convent. I’d like to conduct the interview in person, but it will have to wait until tomorrow. I want to go up to the Moncrieff plantation tonight. I want to have a look around Flint’s office.’
‘Do you mean follow the money, sir?’ asked Prasanna when de Silva had outlined the idea of examining the plantation’s accounts that he and Jane had discussed.
‘Well done, sergeant. Yes, that’s often where the answer’s to be found. I’d like both of you to come with me. Six eyes are better than two, and although I don’t plan on being seen, I’m not banking on it that we won’t encounter any trouble.’
The telephone rang and Nadar answered it. He listened for a moment then put his hand over the receiver. ‘It’s Mr Clutterbuck for you, sir.’
‘I’ll take it in my office.’
‘Good afternoon, de Silva.’ Archie’s voice boomed down the line. ‘Anything to report?’
De Silva decided not to mention his plan to go up to the plantation that night. Archie might not agree with the clandestine search. He would fill him in later if he could sweeten the information with a positive result.
‘Nothing of importance, sir.’ It was true, after a fashion.
‘I’ve been talking with some of my contacts in the motor racing fraternity. It has its uses being president of Nuala’s association. Means I know most people involved in the country. One chap remembered that Donald Moncrieff had a crash at a race in Galle.’
De Silva pictured the lovely seaside town, famous for the massive fortifications built by the Portuguese and the Dutch when they occupied Ceylon.
‘Off the top of his head,’ Archie continued, ‘he couldn’t recall the year, but he promised to make a few enquiries and come back to me. I’ve just heard from him that it was in the autumn of 1923.’
So, if Donald had broken his leg in the crash it was two years before Isobel Moncrieff married his father. She had probably been telling the truth when she said she knew nothing about it.
‘Did this gentleman know whether Mr Moncrieff sustained any injuries?’
‘I’m afraid not, but if he did, my contact thought he was most likely to have been treated at a private clinic down there. Apparently, there’s one that had a very good reputation. Maybe Hebden would have some information on it. I suggest you get in touch with him again.’
‘I will, sir. Thank you for your help.’
‘Oh by the way, I’m afraid I haven’t had time to look into that bank business yet.’
De Silva had almost forgotten he had asked Archie if he would make inquiries into whether money had been going out of Donald Moncrieff’s bank accounts.
‘But I’ll get onto it.’
‘Thank you.’
Putting down the receiver, he felt slightly guilty. He hoped that keeping his plan for tonight from Archie wasn’t going to backfire. He glanced at his watch. David Hebden might be seeing patients, but he could at least find out when would be a convenient time to call him back.
‘The doctor’s about to go out on his afternoon house calls,’ said the receptionist who answered the surgery telephone. ‘But I’ll try to catch him for you.’
De Silva waited, listening to the sounds from the street drifting through the half-open window of his office. The customary hum of daily life grew louder as a cow bellowed and voices were raised. He was on the verge of putting his head round the door to the public room and telling Prasanna or Nadar to go and intervene when Hebden came on the line.
‘My apologies. I meant to call you, but it’s been a busy morning. My receptionist looked out Lucas’s notes for me. I have them in front of me now. Can you hold on a moment?’
‘Of course.’
‘Moncrieff seems to have been a pretty healthy sort of chap,’ said Hebden returning. ‘Only a couple of visits in all the time he was Lucas’s patient. On both occasions, Lucas prescribed painkillers following on from a leg injury. There’s a note that the leg was broken in two places as a result of an accident in 1923. It was set at a clinic in Galle. I suppose coincidences can happen, but it looks like we’ve identified your man.’
‘Indeed it does. Many thanks for your help.’
After he’d rung off, de Silva realised he hadn’t asked Hebden if he would be able to examine the bones with a view to giving an opinion on the cause of death, but it had waited eight years. Another day or two was unlikely to make a difference.
He looked at his watch. It would soon be dark. He decided to stay on at the station and have something to eat in town before he, Prasanna, and Nadar visited the Moncrieff plantation. If they arrived there mid-evening, it should be a safe bet that Peter Flint would have left his office for the night.
Chapter 9
There was still time left before the moon came up, and fortunately it was a cloudy night with only a few stars emerging from amongst the clouds. All the same, de Silva took the precaution of turning off the Morris’s headlights not long after he turned off the public road. He drove slowly, his eyes straining to spot any hazards he needed to avoid. Neither he, Prasanna, nor Nadar spoke.
Where the lane divided, he recalled that the way to the plantation buildings and Flint’s office lay to the left. He took it and they continued through the dark sea of tea terraces. A little short of the plantation buildings, he pulled the Morris into a layby. Presumably, it had been put there to give cars and other vehicles somewhere to pass the trucks used to haul tea down to the markets and shipping warehouses in Colombo. He parked as close as he dared to the rough ground at its edge, hoping the shadows would partially conceal the Morris. Turning off the engine, he reached into the glove compartment for a torch. Prasanna and Nadar already had theirs in their hands.
‘We’ll keep to the trees until we’re close to the plantation buildings. The office is to the left of the drying area. I noticed it when I came down here with Flint to speak to the workers. Their living quarters are some way off, but I’d be very surprised if there isn’t a nightwatchman. We’ll have to take care not to attract his attention. Be as quiet as you can. If I give the signal to halt, don’t move a muscle.’ The young men murmured their assent.
De Silva led the way. They kept their torch beams low, pools of light bobbing like fireflies a few yards ahead of their feet. De Silva stopped a few times, holding up a hand to halt Prasanna and Nadar, but then decided that the noises he heard were nothing more than the grunts and scuffles of nocturnal creatures going about their business.
They had been walking cautiously for several minutes when a susurrating sound made de Silva pause to peer into the tree canopy. An owl settled on a branch and folded its wings, watching them with fierce, unblinking green eyes. Distracted by the sight, de Silva caught his foot under a root and pitched forwards, failing to smother a shout of alarm as he stumbled and saved himself.
‘Are you alright, sir?’ Prasanna’s concerned voice was close to his ear.
He dusted off his trousers. ‘Yes,’ he muttered irritably. He had lectured his officers on staying quiet and not managed it himself, but with luck they were still far enough away from the buildings for his shout to go unheard. If not, he hoped whoever noticed it would assume it came from a bird or animal.
Another few minutes of careful progress brought them to a spot right by the plantation buildings. Once more, de Silva raised a hand to indicate they should pause. He scanned the buildings for
signs of movement and saw none. The area where the freshly picked tea leaves were sorted was about fifty yards away from where they stood. As he had recalled, the office was to its left. He tried to remember if there had been a shack where a watchman might spend the night but couldn’t picture one. He would have to hope that any watchman on duty wasn’t too close to the office and not due to make his rounds for a while.
The scent of tea filled his nostrils as they padded across the beaten earth of the sorting yard. Near the doors to the drying room, large paniers full of fresh tea leaves waited to be moved on to that stage of the process. The office loomed out of the darkness: a single-storey building made of corrugated iron. De Silva fished in his pocket for his lock-picking kit. There was only one lock on the door, and it didn’t take him long to deal with it. The three men slipped inside, and de Silva relocked the door behind them.
The windows had thin curtains which they drew across to mask some, if not all of the light from their torches. Continuing to keep the beams low, they surveyed the room. There were shelves crammed with files, metal cabinets that presumably held more papers, and a large wooden desk with a swivel chair upholstered in faded red leather behind it. On the desk stood an oil lamp, IN and OUT trays, a pot of pens and pencils, and a box of stationery. There was a locked safe in one corner. He didn’t see any bunches of keys, but when he tried the top drawer of one of the metal cabinets, it slid towards him. Good, it would save time if nothing apart from the safe was locked.
They began to search.
‘There are some account ledgers in here, sir,’ said Prasanna, raising his head from a drawer in one of the metal filing cabinets.
De Silva stopped what he was doing and went to see. ‘Let’s have them out.’
Cold Case in Nuala (The Inspector de Silva Mysteries Book 10) Page 10