‘Debra, whatever’s the matter? You look as if you’ve lost a pound and found a penny.’
‘I can’t find Bevis. He told me to meet him here at four thirty and he’s not here; he’ll go spare if he thinks I’m late.’
‘Whatever for? You’re here aren’t you? I’ll give him a piece of my mind if he blames you for being late.’
Debra grasped Hilda’s hand. ‘You mustn’t do that. Oh no, you mustn’t do that. Promise you won’t.’
James exchanged a concerned look with Beth. The two women were just yards from him. He got up and enquired after the young lady. ‘You seem a little preoccupied. Why don’t you join us? You can wait for your friend here.’
Debra caught her breath. ‘He’s not a friend, Bevis is my husband.’
James steered her toward the empty chair at their table. ‘Well, we’re seated on the perimeter here so we can look out for him.’ While Beth settled her down, he turned to Hilda. ‘What does this Bevis look like?’
Under her breath, Hilda described him as a fool. Then she pulled her shoulders back and reverted to the booming voice he’d become used to. ‘Mid-twenties, black hair slicked back and thinks he’s Elvis Presley. Tch, I ask you, these youngsters need their heads bashing together. He’s average height, a little overweight and needs to be here for his wife. He thinks he knows everything and it’ll be Debra’s fault if he pitches up late, you can be sure of that.’
‘But why?’ Beth put in. ‘She’s been here for a good five minutes. We saw her walking toward us.’
Debra wrung her hands on her skirt. ‘Don’t fret about me, please. I’ll be fine. Don’t go blaming Bevis, he don’t like it.’
James suggested he and Beth sit with Debra. ‘I know you have a lot on, Hilda. We’ll defuse the situation if one arises.’
Hilda jutted her chin at Debra. ‘She’s like a mouse cornered by a cat. She can never do right according to Bevis. Surly individual he is. Never used to be. She’s better off without him.’ She thanked them for sitting with her, turned on her heels and strode toward the WI tent.
Beth sought another glass and poured some lemonade. Debra’s eyes darted about the green as if she dreaded seeing her killer bearing down on her. James pushed the glass toward her. ‘When did you last see Bevis?’
‘Breakfast time. I’d cooked him a bacon sandwich at five o’clock.’
‘Five o’clock!’ said Beth. ‘That’s early.’
‘The fishermen come into harbour around then. I wrap the sandwich in paper and he takes it with him with a flask of tea. Five o’clock sharp he likes it and he’s out the door at five past.’
James felt in his pocket for his cigarettes. ‘I take it he’s something to do with the fishing industry?’
Debra confirmed that he was and that he worked closely with the people from Billingsgate market in London, where supplies from all fishing communities made their way to then to be sold on to restaurants and stores. James sat back as Beth coaxed more information from her. Debra, it transpired, was from the small town of Okehampton in Devon, the next county along, and met Bevis when she was on holiday in Polpennarth. She smiled ruefully and suggested that things were much better then.
‘Oh dear,’ said Beth, ‘you’re too young to be having problems, surely.’
‘Sometimes people marry too quick, don’t they? Oh we get along fine, but it’s a hard life. Not much wages come in for a fish trader. We struggle quite a bit. Can’t remember the last time we had a proper joint of meat for dinner. Always fish ’cos Bevis gets it cheap.’
James tried to summon up the image of life down here. On a bright summer’s day, it was an idyllic setting with the waves lapping at the shoreline, Punch and Judy on the beach and drinks at the pub while watching the sun set over the ocean.
But things must be difficult in the winter when the sea whipped up in frenzy; fishermen lost their nets and sometimes their lives as they battled with the elements. He could imagine the gales slamming against the cottages as if God himself was telling them to leave this place. Unless you owned a thriving business, daily life must be incredibly challenging. He put his head back and blew out tobacco smoke.
‘Was Bevis part of the festival today?’
‘He drove the flat-back lorry with the jail on the back.’
‘Old Bogey’s lair?’
‘That’s it.’
Beth recalled seeing it and picked the lorry out in the car park. ‘He’s obviously here. Perhaps he’s got caught up with friends.’
Debra clenched her handbag. ‘Not Bevis, no. If he says meet at four thirty, he means it.’ She checked her watch and grew pale. ‘I hope I didn’t misunderstand him. He said the café next door to the hoopla stall. There’s not another one.’
Beth exchanged a concerned look with James who suggested to Debra that she relax and enjoy her drink.
The young woman’s eyes met his and her haunted look sent a shiver through him. ‘He’s friends with Colm Fiske. P’haps Old Bogey’s taken him. He’s locked ’em both away somewhere.’
James struggled to comprehend such an outrageous claim and suggested that there was probably a more logical explanation than an old folk tale.
She leapt up and almost spat her words out. ‘Don’t mock it. Old Bogey’s not funny, Bevis says so, says he’ll come and get me if I don’t do things and now Bevis is missing. He’s done bad things too, you know, I’m not the only one.’
The outburst attracted attention. A bald, middle-aged man, who looked like a city banker in his dark suit, shirt and tie, stepped in. ‘What’s the problem here, miss?’
‘My husband’s missing. Old Bogey’s got him. He took Colm and now he’s taken Bevis.’
PC Innes pushed his way through the small crowd. He patted Debra’s hand. ‘I’m sure he’s fine, Debra. You know Bevis; he’s prob’ly had a few drinks and lost track of time.’
‘No! You all keep saying that but he wouldn’t – not if he’s meeting me.’ She poked the man in the suit. ‘You’re the copper, you should be out looking for him.’
James realised who this gentleman must be. ‘Inspector Wormstone?’
The Inspector scrutinised him with a frown. James held a hand out and introduced himself and Beth and how they had heard his name. ‘We’ve been sitting with Debra.’ He went on to confirm that they’d thought the same as PC Innes.
Beth referred them to the parked lorry and said that Bevis must be in the crowd somewhere.
A heavy set older man in his sixties with grey hair, piercing blue eyes and mahogany skin strolled over. ‘What’s all this,’ he growled. He turned to Debra and spoke in a gravelly voice. ‘You all right?’
Debra went through it all again. James discreetly rolled his eyes at Beth who gave a light nod back. He was beginning to wonder if this young woman simply wanted some attention. Wormstone broke up the conversation to ask who the older man was.
‘Enoch Pengilly. Fisherman. You spoke to us fishermen two days ago when Colm went missing. Debra’s right. If Bevis said he’d meet her here at a certain time, he’d be here. He’s not here so he’s missing.’
‘But his lorry is there,’ said Beth with an incredulous look. ‘He’s only twenty minutes late.’
‘Don’t mean nothing. It’s not his lorry; he was just asked to drive it. I ain’t seen him.’ He called across to a crowd of men who, judging by their complexions and clothing, James guessed were fellow fishermen. Had any of them seen Bevis? No, was the resounding answer.
Wormstone turned to PC Innes. ‘You know what he looks like?’
‘Yes sir, we went to school together.’
‘Well don’t just stand there, go and look for him.’
Innes jumped to it and ran toward the biggest crowd on the green. Wormstone opened his notebook and took down Debra’s contact details. ‘We can’t do much at the moment because he’s not really missing yet.’
Enoch swore under his breath. ‘’Course he’s missing. He ain’t here is he? You won’t find him here.’
The old fisherman pursed his lips. ‘If he was poorly, my men over there would know and Bevis don’t get waylaid when he’s meeting his missus.’
‘Be that as it may, I can’t put him down as a missing person when he’s only been missing for half an hour.’
‘W-what’s going on?’ Stephen said to James, who was pleased to see a familiar face. He steered the Merryweathers and Beth back to their table and went through what had happened.
Anne couldn’t hide her astonishment and James gave a curt nod. ‘You’re thinking the same as us. A lot of fuss over not a great deal. The man could be wandering about here and lost track of time.’
‘Why is she so adamant he’s gone?’
‘A-and isn’t a little odd for someone that age to b-believe in Old Bogey?’
Beth agreed that she felt the same and gave her own opinion of Bevis. ‘She seems to take everything he says as gospel. He says he’s going to be here at a certain time, he’ll be here. She won’t listen to common sense. It seems a little over-zealous.’
Anne commented that Bevis sounded the same as some of the youngsters at the summer festival the previous year. James groaned. He remembered them all too well, with their leather jackets and quiffed hair, strutting about with undesirable attitudes. Perhaps Bevis was going through a similar phase, although he thought it unusual for a married man with responsibilities to behave in that way. He caught the eye of a passing waitress and requested lemonade for the Merryweathers.
Hilda reappeared and approached Jarvis Wormstone. ‘Inspector, the man is obviously missing. Do your job and find him. If he’s with Colm you’ll get the pair of them. A feather in your cap.’
‘Mrs Roscarrock, we have this in hand. Unless you have some information about the whereabouts of Colm and Bevis, I don’t need you here.’
‘I haven’t any information, Inspector, but these two ladies are part of our community and part of my WI. We’re their support. Always have been. I won’t interfere with your investigations but I need to be here for my friends.’
James watched as PC Innes returned with a forlorn shake of the head. Hilda snaked a protective arm around Debra and led her away telling the Inspector that he knew where to find them.
Inspector Wormstone instructed Innes to file a report. ‘You never know,’ he said, ‘it may be connected to Colm Fiske.’
The crowd dispersed. Hilda had led Debra toward the WI tent where half a dozen ladies dashed to her aid. James chewed his lip. A hand waving in his face brought him out of his day-dream. He focussed and saw Beth, Stephen and Anne looking at him.
‘Sweetie, you look as if your brain is working overtime,’ his wife said
James turned and pulled his chair in. ‘This is all very odd.’
Anne’s eyes sparkled. ‘Have you stumbled on something?’
‘Not stumbled upon, no. It’s just an observation. Colm Fiske, resident, went missing mid-morning in the middle of the opening day of the festival. No one saw him disappear. No one has any information. Now, this Bevis chap is presumed missing. The place is heaving with people and no one saw him go. These men, strong young men, have disappeared with no witnesses whatsoever.’
‘T-taken in plain s-sight, James.’
‘Mm?’
‘If the p-place is heaving, people often don’t see things. Unless you were a-actually examining a s-situation, you wouldn’t see someone disappear.’
James lightly tapped the table. ‘The only way you’ll see something untoward is if it appears untoward. That means one thing.’
Anne tilted her head, inviting the answer.
‘If these men haven’t simply wandered off, it means they’ve been kidnapped. And if they disappeared without a struggle, it means that Colm and Bevis knew their kidnapper.’
There was a collective sharp intake of breath.
‘How else can they disappear in a crowd of people? If they were kidnapped by a stranger, they’d put up a fight - yet no one reported a struggle.’
Beth, Stephen and Anne slowly nodded in agreement. James held a finger up. ‘You know what else is puzzling me? Evelyn Fiske and that Debra woman. Neither of them strikes me as a carefree, happy woman. They have a haunted look about them.’
James sat back and returned his attention to the WI tent. The way those women flocked to Debra was unnatural. Yes, of course, they would want to comfort a woman whose husband was missing but he’d been gone less than half an hour. They’re consoling her as if he were dead. He glanced across to Enoch Pengilly and the fishermen. They huddled shoulder to shoulder chatting and smoking; a fraternity that stuck together. What secrets did they have? He felt sure that if there were any, they would remain confined to the group.
He swung round. ‘Something odd is going on here. People know more than they’re telling. Stephen, Anne, what are your plans tonight?’
Stephen explained that they had to get back to the caravan site because Luke and Mark were spending the evening with the family next door. ‘I have to go and rescue them in a while. They’re over there trying to win a huge bag of Spangles.’
Anne whispered. ‘But, we could book a table at The Sardine or go for fish and chips at that little chippy in the harbour.’
James instinctively leaned forward’ Why?’
‘Because we overheard that Inspector earlier telling someone he was dining at The Sardine tonight. And that young policeman said he was having fish and chips after a pint. It might be a—’
‘Splendid,’ James interrupted with a broad smile. He pecked Beth on the cheek. ‘Wormstone’s from Scotland Yard. I may telephone George to see if he knew him and if he’s likely to be approachable. My guess is that he’s not.’ He turned to the Merryweathers. ‘Shall we meet you at the harbour wall and decide where to pounce?’
Anne scrunched her shoulders up. ‘How exciting.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
Colm gulped the water down. ‘Who are you? Why’re you doing this?’
The blindfold tightened. He received no reply. His captor checked the bindings around his ankles.
‘You’ll be sorry. Once I find you out, you’ll be sorry.’
A hand squeezed his neck. His bravado quickly vanished. ‘Please, please, I’ll do what you say. Tell me what you want.’ The gag returned, tight and uncomfortable. He put his head back. The footsteps retreated and faded away.
How long had he been here? The blackness stripped time away. Was it night or day? His appetite had gone but without knowing when the next meal would come, he’d eaten the scraps of pasty fed to him.
What was the point of this?
What had he done?
Would he ever be found?
His stomach lurched. What if he died here?
CHAPTER NINE
At the hotel, James asked Vivian if he could use their telephone. ‘I’ll pop some money on the side.’
Vivian was more than happy and showed him into their living quarters. ‘Phone’s just there. I’ll be on reception if you need me. We’ve got a couple of guests arriving anytime now.’
He closed the door and lifted the receiver. After what seemed an eternity, he was put through to his old friend Detective Chief Inspector George Lane, who couldn’t hide his surprise at hearing from him.
‘Is everything all right?’
‘Everything is fine, George. The weather is glorious, the festival is a good deal of fun, the hospitality is beyond expectations and it’s wonderful to have a break from the routine. Do you know if Harry and Oli are coping at Harrington’s?’
George assured him they were. ‘I popped in on the way home yesterday and everything seems to be running well. But you’ve only been away one full day, James. What’s going on?’
James silently cursed George’s intuition and then gave him a brief outline of what had been happening in Polpennarth. George knew of the case, but only from what he’d read in the newspaper columns.
‘You say another man’s gone missing?’
Further clarification of the afternoon’s events followed and before too long, his friend was up to date with everything.
‘Did you ever work with this Wormstone chap? Do you think he’d mind me poking my nose in?’
George indicated that he thought he’d mind very much. ‘No policeman wants an amateur sticking their oar in and Wormstone won’t be any different.’
‘The constable seems happy to share information.’
‘Well, he would do, wouldn’t he? He’s probably bowled over by your charm and status. Get further up the ranks and you won’t get that sort of worship, James. You know that from your dealings with my Inspector.’
James afforded himself a wry smile, remembering only too well that he received short shrift from Inspector Collins on the two occasions he’d crossed paths with him. ‘Well, enough of that. As I’ve got you on the telephone, do you know Wormstone? What’s he like?’
There was a brief silence and James visualised George at his desk, surrounded with buff folders, pondering the question.
‘I’ve never actually worked with him but he had a reputation.’
‘Good or bad?’
‘Oh good, very good. He was entrusted with complex cases and solved all of them; except one.’
James dragged a dining room chair over and sat down. ‘And?’
‘Sent him over the edge. It was a particularly brutal case – a child went missing and Jarvis Wormstone found the body.’
‘Oh good Lord. Did they find the killer?’
‘No. And that’s what got him. He told me that he wouldn’t have minded any other criminal he’d convicted walking but he couldn’t bear the thought of a child killer being free.’
‘So are you saying that he left and joined the force down here?’
‘I know he went off sick. Off for months he was. One of his closer colleagues went round to him one day and apparently he broke down. Just sat and cried. Must have caught him at his lowest. Anyway, a few months later, he gets back to work but wants somewhere quieter where the most he’d have to deal with would be theft or the odd punch-up. The job in Penzance was ideal for him so he moved down there.’
Lord James Harrington and the Cornish Mystery Page 5