by Holly Bell
‘You can decide that for yourself,’ replied Hogarth.
‘Please go on, Mike.’
‘Once the site was made safe, forensics moved in. Some time later, they were able to test DNA traces taken from the walls and stairs. All were thought to belong to the same person and, thanks to a tooth he’d had extracted by a local dentist, it was possible to match them up: Lord Mordren Dowrkampyer. He had been obliterated.’
‘No known weapon can do that to a human body,’ protested Trelawney.
‘Even so.’
‘And why was the fire brigade alerted so late? People living nearby must have seen the fire and smoke,’ insisted Trelawney. ‘Why did they take so long to raise the alarm?’
‘That’s what I asked the local farmers. They all said the same thing: they assumed it was swaling.’
‘Swaling?’ asked Amanda.
‘An ancient practise of burning to encourage regeneration of growth,’ explained Hogarth.
‘In the middle of the night?’ Trelawney looked at him incredulously.
‘They said it was none of their business what the “estates” chose to do on their own land.’
‘Meaning they saw it and thought good riddance!’
Hogarth looked at Thomas ruefully.
‘I think that was the subtext, yes,’
‘Well, in all fairness and speaking as a descendent of one of the ‘estates’, loath though I am to admit it, I can’t say I blame them,’ Trelawney admitted. ‘But what on earth went on at Growan House that night? What happened to Mordren Dowrkampyer? And at whose hand?’
‘All excellent questions,’ acknowledged Hogarth, who clearly either could not or would not answer them.
‘If no known weapon could do that to Dowrkampyer,’ reasoned Amanda, ‘and it involved witch-clans then it had to be magical. But I know of no spell that could … vaporise someone.’
Hogarth looked at her blandly and said,
‘Hmm.’
‘So, what did you do next?’ asked Trelawney.
‘In one respect, I was in luck. Two of the children who were said to have escaped that night, had lived on my patch and the case was handed over to me. All of the school records were destroyed in the conflagration, so I had to go on hearsay. I continued to send out what feelers I could but, at the time, there was nothing.’
‘But later?’ asked Amanda, hopefully.
‘Later, little by little, I did manage to locate the families of the two children. But I got nothing from them. Either they claimed not to have been there, or claimed no knowledge of anything untoward at Growan House. The children had been unwell, kept home from school, then a job opportunity had come up for one of the parents or educational opportunities had opened up elsewhere. The door was shut firmly in the face of the investigation. Years passed. The file gathered dust. No leads on the fire, the deaths, especially the mysterious end met by the lord of the manor, or what was going on with the Dowrkampyers at the Growan House school. Until … one day …’
‘Yes? One day?’ enquired Amanda animatedly.
Trelawney was equally curious. ‘Yes, what happened?’
‘Well, now I think that’s enough for one evening.’
‘Oh no! Please, Uncle Mike.’
‘Tomorrow, my dear. I have to make sure you come back for more of my cooking,’ he replied jovially. ‘I have to confess to being a little out of practice. I’m rather a take-away fan, you know, deep down.’
‘Your cooking is excellent!’ Amanda insisted.
‘Too kind. Now, I can see you’re all excited, so before you go, how about a nice relaxing nightcap, Amanda? I know Thomas is driving so he won’t, but for us I think I can find something rather special.’
‘Lovely.’
Hogarth went to the drinks’ cabinet, burrowed and then jubilantly brandished a bottle, announcing:
‘Cornish mead, no less!’
Chapter 12
The Lead, and the Oath
Thanks to the generous libations of mead poured out by Hogarth, Amanda not only enjoyed a peaceful night’s sleep, but awoke late. Breakfast for two, and for the human only, a shower and a beach walk followed.
Tempest, scorning sand and sea water, made it clear his human should leave him with one of his high-grade USA-grown catnip ‘bananas’. Amanda returned to find him on the sofa, the banana on his chest, all four paws in the air, and a look of vacant delirium on his face.
A Tempest-tummy-rub and reading session later, Ken arrived to take her into town for lunch and then to meet her new friend.
Pasco and Amanda, comfortably ensconced in the café, with tea and saffron cake, discussed the history and legends of Cornwall in Cornish. Pasco clearly enjoyed helping Amanda with forgotten vocabulary, and when she stumbled over awkward phrases. In spite of his gruff manner, she surprised a laugh out of him every now and then. This had the staff looking up with raised eyebrows and smiles.
As Pasco was so much older, Amanda felt it would not be polite to ask him personal questions, such as where he lived or what his work had been. She thought it likely he had retired.
He seemed to assume that she was just a random visitor. Pasco showed every appearance of savouring the opportunity to speak his native tongue, especially with someone so young, bright and happy.
When Trelawney arrived, that evening, Amanda invited him in while she put on her outdoor things. He sniffed the air.
‘Whatever is that?’ In reply, she pointed mutely to the sofa, where Tempest had spent the afternoon much as he’d spent the morning.
‘Good grief. He looks wasted!’
‘Catnip,’ Amanda informed the inspector.
Trelawney managed to maintain a deadpan expression.
‘I see,’ he replied in his most convincing stern policeman’s voice. ‘You’re supplying him with Class B substances now, are you?’
A dimple showed in Amanda’s cheek. ‘It’s perfectly legal, as well you know.’
Trelawney shook his head at her familiar. ‘How on earth has he been able to accompany you to Parhayle?’
‘He hasn’t.’
‘Spent the day on the sofa getting high as a kite, then,’ Trelawney remarked, observing Tempest with disapproval. Amanda giggled.
‘You should be pleased. Finally you’ve got the goods on him!’
‘So I have. Much he cares.’
Tempest opened a bleary eye and regarded the inspector vaguely.
‘Not coming with us?’ Trelawney asked hopefully.
‘Oo, of course Mr Fuffy-wuffy is coming wiv us, aren’t oo pwecious?’ Amanda responded, bundling him up in his radiator-warmed travel blanket.
‘Come on then,’ sighed Trelawney, ‘he’s clearly a lost cause.’
Soon, Amanda, smirking familiar in arms, and Trelawney were entering through Hogarth’s latched front door to a call from the back of the house. There they discovered their host emerging from under the sparkling new white butler sink, spanners and kitchen roll in hand.
‘Greetings, friends. You are just in time to congratulate me: no leaks!’
‘Looks very smart, Uncle Mike.’
‘New taps too?’ asked Trelawney.
‘And is that a new splashback?’ enquired Amanda.
‘Yes, on both counts,’ Hogarth replied merrily. ‘Could one of you stir the pot? The other one, light the fire? I’ll just tidy myself up and put the tools away.’
Trelawney headed out of the room. Amanda took the lid off the chilli and said quietly to the spoon:
‘Mecsge.’
It obligingly began to circle the thick, fragrant mixture while she went to join the inspector in the sitting-room. She found him kneeling by the hearth stacking kindling, firelighters and coal.
‘Inspector.’
‘Yes?’
‘Uncle Mike is very busy.’
‘Now, do you mean?’ He applied a lit split to various points and started to blow on the kindling.
‘In general. He seems to be doing a sort of refurbishing jo
b. At least, on the bathrooms and kitchen.’
‘And the hall, judging by the Polyfilla. Ah, that’s catching nicely.’ Trelawney observed the small licking flames with satisfaction.
‘Yes. Do you have any idea why?’ Amanda persisted.
‘I expect the house needs it. It’s a long time since Mike redecorated. Now that he’s retired, he has more time, and wants to get it done.’
Amanda looked at him doubtfully.
‘Hm. I suppose so.’
‘And maybe he wants you to get to know this part of Cornwall, so he’s occupying his daytimes,’ he suggested.
Amanda smiled.
‘I hadn’t thought of that.’
***
Amanda poured some custard onto her jam roly-poly and, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, prompted,
‘So? You were saying there were no leads on the fire, the deaths, the mysterious murder of Lord Dowrkampyer or about the school, and then, “One day…”?’
‘One day, by which time I had risen to the rank of chief inspector,’ responded Hogarth, ‘I received a call from my sister Vera. It was a long conversation. I didn’t visit or phone her much in those days, but Vera said she had had a feeling for some time that there was something on my mind. I ended up telling her about the fire, the school, the children, their families, and the dead end I’d been up against for, well ... years. It was a relief to be sharing it with her. She was sympathetic, encouraged me to “buck up, old bean”, and, just as for Dickens’ Mr Micawber, something would, no doubt, “turn up”. And that was that. For several weeks. And then ....’
At the last two words, an expression of consternation filled Amanda’s face.
‘Oh, you’re not going to make us wait until tomorrow, are you, Uncle Mike?’
He grinned.
‘No. my dear. However, now I come to a part of the story where I must ask you to reserve your questions until the very end of my telling of the tale. Can you do that you two?’
‘Yes, Uncle Mike,’ Amanda replied compliantly.
‘Thomas?’
‘Yes. Of course. Regardless of the challenge,’ he added with a smile at Amanda.
‘Very well. As I say, that was that for several weeks and then ... I received a call from Vera inviting me to come and spend my next free weekend with them. Vee said, rather tantalisingly, that she and Harry just might be able to help me with my cul-de-sac. She wasn’t promising, but tentative as it was, it was the best lead of any kind I’d had for years. My excellent team at the station rearranged their schedules, and I took the weekend after off, and flew out to Spain.
‘It was a little awkward at first as we had all been apart for a while, but Harry is such a serene and amiable chap, and so skilled a chef that he acted as a catalyst. He soon had me snacking indulgently, at my ease, and Vee and I fell into our old relationship.
‘Nevertheless, I let Vee broach the subject that had led to my visit. It was the evening after I’d arrived and we were having carajillos on the deck looking out over the Mediterranean, watching the sunset and the ships passing.
***
‘Now then, Mikey. About why you’ve come here. Next time I hope you won’t leave it until you have a reason of epic proportions to bring you. Harry needs a guinea-pig for his recipes, you know.’
‘I’m more than willing, and no, I won’t leave it so long in future. Sorry, Vee. I’ve been rather caught up with this case.’
‘You mean obsessed.’
‘All right, I’ll give you that!’
‘Hmph. Very well. You’re forgiven. So ... regarding your Bodmin fire and the murder of Dowrkampyer, we know a family who might possibly be willing to give you a little information.’
‘Wonderful!’
‘Cool your jets, Hatchling. This is going to take some preparation.’
‘Oh?’
‘They are rather ... an unusual family. You’d have to leave any preconceived notions of, what is loosely termed, normality at the door.’
‘Unusual is an understatement,’ added Harry, between sips of his Spanish liqueur coffee.
I frowned in bewilderment, and protested somewhat,
‘I like to think I’m reasonably liberal.’
‘Hm,’ Harry replied.
‘In the course of my work, I’ve encountered all kinds of families I promise you,’ I said defensively.
Harry looked at Vee.
‘I think we can pretty much guarantee he’s never encountered anything like this.’ He received a confirming nod from his wife. My mind boggled.
‘Well ... they’re not ... inbred, are they?’ Harry and Vera laughed. ‘All right, so that’s wide of the mark. So come on, tell me. What is it about them?’
Vera became strangely solemn at this point. Her following words surprised me:
‘You must promise that you will never reveal what you are about to learn to a living soul.’
‘Er ... yes, yes, of course.’
‘I mean it.’ Vera was deadly serious. I was taken aback.
‘I promise.’ Something more seemed to be needed. I added, ‘I swear.’
She responded, ‘Swear upon the name of St Piran.’
I was astounded.
‘What? Vee ... we haven’t ... not since we were children.’
‘I know,’ she answered levelly.
‘Very well, yes, of course,’ I answered. ‘I swear upon the name of St Piran that I shall not reveal to a living soul what I am about to learn.’
‘Unless you are given leave to do so,’ Vee added as a rider. I was curious.
‘Unless I am given leave by whom?’
‘Lucy.’
Chapter 13
The House of Lucy
Amanda leaned forward, provoking a grumble from the partially dislodged Tempest.
‘So did Vee and Harry tell you?’
‘They did,’ replied Hogarth. ‘It took me some time to get my head around it. Every time I said, “so it’s like so-and-so?”, they said “no” and explained it again.’
‘Explained what?’ persisted Amanda.
‘Well ... I’ve given this some thought, and I’ve decided it’ll be more fun if you work it out for yourselves.’
‘No!’ she protested with comical dismay.
‘Really?’ Trelawney asked.
‘Yes.’ Hogarth was definite.
‘Is it that complicated?’
‘Yes and no.’
‘Is it a magic thing?’ Amanda guessed.
‘Some might say so.’
Trelawney sighed.
‘All right, Mike. We give up. Yes, Amanda?’
‘Yes.’ She looked at Hogarth. ‘Please go on with the story.’
***
‘Once I’d bound myself with a solemn oath and I’d got my head around what they were telling me, they set up a meeting at the house of the family. I wondered if Vee and Harry would come with me to introduce me, but it turned out that they were happy for me to go there alone. And so ... the next morning I went.’
***
Hogarth glanced up at the clock.
‘Forgive me: I have an early start tomorrow. But come early, say, 6 o’clock.’
In the car, with Tempest wrapped in his blanket, thoroughly indignant at the transition from cosy sitting-room to cold car, Amanda said,
‘It seemed rude to ask, but what does Uncle Mike have an early start for?’
‘Redecorating? Though why he needs to work at it from the crack of dawn is a mystery to me.’
‘And why is he cooking so much if he usually doesn’t?’
‘Yes, I’ve wondered that too,’ agreed Trelawney.
‘Hm. And what does the story so far have to do with Lucy?’
‘I’m in the dark every bit as much as you, I’m afraid, Miss Cadabra. All we can do is wait until tomorrow. As I said, I have a feeling that this story is in some way intensely personal to Mike, and we must allow him to tell it in his own way.’
‘You’re right. I suppose I have been a
bit ... oh ... importunate.’
Trelawney smiled as he watched the road ahead. ‘Don’t be apologetic. I think Mike is rather enjoying your obvious enthrallment.’
Amanda laughed.
‘Aren’t you just as eager to hear where it’s going?’
‘Perhaps. But this story concerns you rather than me.’
‘Is that what your instinct tells you?’
‘Very much so. Pick you up at 5.30 tomorrow?’
‘Thank you. I might just have a lazy day. Beach, read, order in lunch.’ Amanda looked over her shoulder. ‘That would please oo, wouldn’t it, Mr Cuddly-Wuddly?’
Trelawney, in the rear-view mirror, caught the glare of Tempest’s amber eyes lighting up the back half of the car. The inspector had been thinking of inviting Miss Cadabra to the station again for a proper tour but at Amanda’s words abandoned the notion. That cat must have read his mind because he clearly saw the smirk on its face and heard the words in his head:
None but the brave deserve the fair.
***
The following evening, after the first course, Hogarth returned to the kitchen, telling Amanda and Trelawney to stay where they were until called. Soon they heard the sound of frying with intermittent slapping, the oven door opening and closing then more frying. Next came the pop of a lid opening, the sound of the fridge door, the glug of thick liquid being poured, the click of the gas ignition and finally, ‘Come and make the tea, you two, and collect your plates.’
They needed no second call but instantly got to their feet. Amanda led the way in and got out cups and teabags, but Hogarth was deliberately obscuring the view of the operation in progress. Trelawney took the dairy and coconut milk out of the fridge, and soon the tea was made.
‘Right. Come and get it,’ called their host.
‘It looks lovely.’ Amanda picked up her plate.
‘A Spanish dessert: Frixuelos de Asturias,’ Hogarth explained.