Lord James Harrington and the Cornish Mystery

by Lynn Florkiewicz

  Nibbin relit her pipe. ‘Mistake. The kidnapper didn’t do their homework. I’d like you to go now please.’

  He gritted his teeth. She clearly knew more about the victims. He understood her reluctance to spill the beans but why not say something now? He expressed his disappointment that she wouldn’t divulge more information. ‘These men are suffering and every day that goes by could lead them to danger. They may be dying of thirst.’

  She appeared unconcerned and mumbled: ‘A little hardship won’t do ’em any harm. I’ve had enough questions. Give me my home back and don’t visit again. I have to live here. I can’t have the locals seeing you here.’

  They climbed to their feet and she bundled them through the opening. James squinted as the daylight hit his eyes. She called out after him. ‘We don’t have a killer here. Someone’s trying to right a wrong. The men won’t speak of it; the women are frightened of it.’

  She disappeared.

  They went on their way, more confused than ever. The next five minutes were spent firing questions at each other. Should James continue to investigate? What were all these quotes about? What did Nibbin mean about someone trying to right a wrong?

  ‘Confound that blasted woman,’ James blurted and waved the scraps of paper. ‘I’d rather she’d have said nothing then bombard us with all this cryptic nonsense.’

  Ahead of them was an ice-cream van and a number of walkers had flocked toward it probably, James thought, because the vans were such a curiosity. James had seen a few in London just a couple of months before and was astounded to see one all the way down here. They’d made their mark in the United States and the novelty had now spread across the Atlantic. They joined the queue and, on reaching the front, asked for two ice-cream cornets.

  ‘I say,’ said James to the vendor. ‘This is rather natty, isn’t it?’

  The owner explained that he was one of the first to own a van. ‘I’ve had it on the road for two months now. It’s really taking off and I thought I’d drive it down to where the tourists are.’

  ‘S-sensible man.’

  James asked if he always parked there and learned that the vendor based himself in Penzance but came up to this spot because of its coastal walk. ‘According to the guides, this is one of the most picturesque walks in these parts so it’s good business, especially on a day like this.’

  ‘You don’t keep it parked up here at night?’

  He received an astonished look. ‘No mate. The tourists disappear back to the bed and breakfast places about five for dinner. I pack up and head back to Penzance and set up there. Why?’

  James explained about the lights he’d seen on the cliff-tops at night. ‘I wondered if that was you.’

  He pulled a face to indicate it wasn’t and suggested it might have been a late night walker with a torch. He politely asked them to move as the queue behind them had begun to build. James apologised and they stepped to one side.

  ‘Oh look,’ said Stephen. ‘There’s an old t-tin mine over there. Shall we take a look? I wouldn’t mind a few photographs of that.’

  Savouring the cool ice cream they wandered across to the desolate mine. The chimney stood tall and was in danger of crumbling although there appeared to be enough moss growing up one side to keep it standing. Alongside was an immense building that would have housed the huge steam engines used to power the machinery needed underground. This particular building looked a forlorn sight and they tried to imagine what it must have looked like in its day. They looked further up the coastline and saw a number of tall chimneys dotted along the cliff-tops.

  Strolling around the building Stephen explored the areas that were not fenced off. They found huge steel rivets that would have helped secure the steam engines. In the corner, a dented tin mug lay in the dust. They climbed back out onto the grass where James realised they were near the entrance. It had a splintered door in place and, on the ground, some rusty railway lines almost buried in the earth. James gently kicked the rails.

  ‘These must be the tramlines that led the wagons down. It must have been a noisy and dusty environment.’

  Stephen agreed. He checked his watch. ‘I-I think we ought to give that next village a miss. It’s a-almost lunchtime.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right. Shall we pop into The Pilchard and pick up some pasties?’

  ‘Good idea.’

  As Stephen walked away, James’ curiosity got the better of him and he tried the door. He pulled it open and did a double-take. Everything about this mine was ancient, rusted and crumbling. Why, then, was there a new door hidden behind an old one, with a brand new padlock on it? A piece of paper fluttered on the ground. He reached down to pick it up.

  ‘Polpennarth Council – Mine in Danger of Collapse

  - Please Keep Clear’

  James guessed some inquisitive tourists had got themselves into a spot of bother and they’d had to lock the entrance. He pushed the dilapidated door back where a glint caught his eye. He squatted down and pulled back a slab of stone.

  A lantern!

  A new lantern, gleaming in the sunshine.

  He turned it over in his hands. The cogs and wheels spun in his head. This was the light he’d seen from the boat. It must have been.

  A fragment of the Knockers’ rhyme came to mind. He quietly repeated the parts he remembered. ‘We are the Cornish Knockers, we live in the deep, dank mines. We’ll take you to the darkness, take you down below. It’s black as night, you’ll be a fright, and your death will be mighty slow.’

  Stephen called out to him. He replaced the lantern under the stone and jogged over to let him know what he’d found. His friend looked back toward the mine and then at James.

  ‘I-I know that look. Y-you’re going to investigate again, aren’t you?’

  Beth’s assertion about simply having a holiday flashed like a neon sign in his head. He nudged Stephen forward. ‘It may be nothing. That old door’s had it; the council have fitted a new one. I just don’t understand why there’s a lantern there.’

  He was loath to return to investigating, especially after promising Beth that he wouldn’t. The discussion with Nibbin had been a frustrating but enlightening one. She was telling them to look for the simple explanation. Most crimes were committed because of something simple; an argument, someone slighted, jealousy. This would be the same. A small community where gossip was rife and someone had been slighted or felt aggrieved in some way.

  James strode out. ‘Come along, Stephen. Let’s get those pasties, I could eat a horse.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  They’d ensconced themselves around the small dining table in the Merryweathers’ caravan and eaten their pasties. Outside, they could hear the boys playing ball with Radley and assurances that they were now feeling much better.

  Beth glowered at James. ‘You’re not serious.’

  James had gone through the morning’s events in great detail, describing finding Flora, their meeting with Nibbin and her odd words of wisdom; but Beth was finding it difficult to fathom.

  ‘Why on earth would you believe a rambling woman who lives on a hill? How does she know you won’t get killed?’

  Anne agreed. ‘She sounds unhinged and could be involved herself. She could be leading you into a trap. Look at what happened to you both these last two days. We could be arranging your funerals.’

  Stephen assured their wives that Nibbin was probably the most sensible and intelligent person who lived there. ‘She doesn’t b-believe in all that Knockers nonsense and is in-incredibly well read and intelligent. She went to Cambridge and h-has a degree in Philosophy.’

  ‘But that means nothing, Stephen, if she’s unstable.’

  James asked Beth to hear him out and enlarged on Stephen’s description. With some persuasion, he convinced Beth that Nibbin was not mad, just someone who loved to play the part but was actually profoundly observant. He repeated the quotes she’d insisted he impart to the men when they were found and that they were to look at the obv
ious. ‘She said someone was righting a wrong.’

  Beth gazed at him and he returned it with an earnest look, determined not to break eye contact. It felt like a contest. The first to look away would lose the argument.

  Beth closed her eyes. ‘Oh, all right. But we think this through and we don’t do anything dangerous or untoward.’

  James nodded his understanding. ‘Anything we come up with will be given straight to Wormstone and Innes.’

  Anne repeated Nibbin’s statement that James had mentioned earlier about the men not speaking of it and the women being frightened of it. ‘That’s significant, don’t you think? It’s almost like a riddle. And you said she thinks it won’t do those men any harm to be kidnapped a while longer. Why?’

  James wiped his hands on a napkin. ‘You’re right. The police have been looking to see what these men have in common, as in clubs or interests. But they don’t have anything like that. The men won’t speak of it; the women are frightened of it. Beth, Anne, take us through what you observed with the wives at the WI.’

  ‘Well,’ said Beth, ‘Hilda’s a matriarchal figure. She has no children of her own but her attitude to the women in the WI is more often than not like a matron than an equal.’

  Anne expanded. ‘She’s pushy and assertive and she’s been particularly protective of Evelyn and Debra and I would imagine Edith now that Enoch’s disappeared.’ She chewed her lip. ‘What if she is the kidnapper? She’s been a suspect all of this time and everyone’s dismissed it.’

  James asked them to be more specific. ‘What struck you most about Evelyn? Answer now,’ he clicked his fingers, ‘don’t think about it. Beth, go with your instinct.’

  ‘She’s frightened.’

  ‘Anne?’

  ‘Yes, jumpy, frightened of her own shadow.’

  ‘Why? What causes fear? What causes someone to have such a haunted look? Discard the fact her husband is missing; I think we’ve already decided this is deep-rooted.’

  Anne sat forward. ‘If I was that frightened, it would be either a phobia or that a particular person frightened me.’

  Beth added: ‘What about a fear of crowds or open spaces? She seems uncomfortable around people.’

  ‘No,’ said Stephen. ‘She m-made her way to the WI without an es-escort. If she had agoraphobia, she wouldn’t have made it to the fr-front step.’

  ‘And,’ said James, ‘a fear of crowds doesn’t tally. We’ve seen her at the parade, at the pub and mixing with villagers on the green. No, I think this is a person. She’s terrified of a person and I believe it’s her husband. There are snippets of conversation that suggest that. Look at the way she answered Hilda when we first met them at The Pilchard. She was wary about doing anything in case Colm found out.’

  ‘But that doesn’t explain Debra. She’s positively radiant.’

  ‘Debra’s a different person with different reactions. When we first saw her at the fairground, she had that same fearful look.’

  Anne slapped the table. ‘And now she is full of the joys of spring.’

  ‘B-because her bully of a husband is not there dominating pr-proceedings. How enlightening.’

  ‘And,’ said James, ‘she said something at the fairground that I thought was odd and having had this discussion now makes sense. She said he’s done bad things too, do you remember, darling?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I do.’

  ‘She thinks she’s bad because Bevis doesn’t let up on her but he’s not an angel himself because of the way he is.’ He held a finger up to emphasise his statement. ‘And Nibbin did give us a clue. These quotes, they’re to do with tolerance, patience and respect.’

  Beth clasped her hands together. ‘Sweetie, that’s it. We know that Enoch is a domineering figure; we’ve witnessed it enough times. And what about Gretchen telling us that the girls have lost their oomph. Debra’s found hers since Bevin went missing.’

  James stomach did a mild flip as things settled into place. ‘And remember what Hilda said about things being better for these women. She knows they’re bullied. The fact their husbands are missing means exactly that. They can live without fear.’

  ‘Wh-what about Flora though? We’ve witnessed her bullying her husband. Why was she let go?’

  James reminded them to think about what they’d observed with Enoch. Although they hadn’t met Colm or Bevis, the way the villagers had described them confirmed they were of the same mould as the old fisherman, their treatment of their respective wives was both domineering and officious; like a sergeant major drilling raw recruits, wearing them down. ‘The slightest thing they do wrong, they pounce on it and drag them down, taking every bit of confidence from them.’

  Stephen added that Debra had only been married a couple of years and that perhaps Bevis hadn’t had time to do that. ‘That’s why Debra’s f-found her oomph. Evelyn, remember, h-has been with Colm for ten years.’

  Beth brought them back to the point that this didn’t explain Flora.

  ‘But don’t you see darling. Observing Vic in that fish and chip shop; he wasn’t downtrodden or lacking confidence. He doesn’t have a look of fear or wariness about him. He looks on his wife with fondness; it’s the way they are. He lets her nag him, it’s her way. I would imagine that if he needed to stand up for himself he would.’

  ‘So Flora was a mistake.’

  ‘That’s what Nibbin said. Look how distraught Vic was when he found she was missing. That’s not the behaviour of someone suffering from abuse. That’s someone who is truly worried about the person they love.’

  Stephen held a finger up. ‘A-and who was in the vicinity when you saw Vic?’

  The group chorused. ‘Hilda.’

  ‘I wonder,’ said Beth, ‘if Hilda is working with Debra or Evelyn? Debra could be ecstatic because she’s found a way to rid herself of a bully. Evelyn could be fearful because she’s breaking the law.’

  ‘A-and Debra has access to the pharmacy. She could have built up a supply of d-drugs from her own prescription.’

  Something about that statement nagged at James but he couldn’t think why.

  ‘Perhaps Hilda and Debra are working together,’ said Anne. ‘We should follow them. At a distance, see what they get up to and where they go.’

  Beth admired her enthusiasm but encouraged James to go to the police. ‘You promised to take a step back and not get involved.’

  James rested his elbows on the table. She was right, of course. The business with the boat and the brake cable was no idle threat. Someone wanted them to keep their noses out. Nibbin knew about the bullying but she couldn’t say. Although living on the fringe of the village, she had to live in the community and so she refused to be drawn out. She was ostracised enough – being accused of betrayal might affect the visits of the few villagers who did befriend her.

  ‘Beth, we’re observing, nothing more. We’ll observe in the village, see where they go, who they talk to, notice if there’s anything unusual. We need to establish if Hilda is working alone or with those women. I’d hate for Wormstone to arrest them all as a result of our opinion.’

  ‘D-do you think Edith is caught up in this?’

  They fell silent. That a pensioner would be involved in such a thing appeared inconceivable. Anne dismissed the idea altogether, Beth tilted her head from side to side, unable to commit herself and Stephen asked James if he’d caught the recent release Too Many Crooks where an elderly wife took over the running of a gang to get revenge on her husband.

  James chuckled. ‘Are you suggesting that Edith is a master criminal?’

  Stephen gave him a bashful look. ‘P-probably not.’

  ‘So, sweetie, what are you suggesting we do?’

  ‘I suggest that Stephen and Anne tag on to Debra Allan. She’s pleased as punch and may do something untoward; slip up because of her carefree attitude. We, darling, will pick up Hilda’s trail.’ He met Stephen’s gaze. ‘Have you plans?’

  Stephen looked at Anne who explained that she and Beth had
already been invited to a sewing hour. ‘The WI need to make some more bunting for their next festival and they’re having a get together this afternoon and asked if we’d like to attend.’

  ‘We thanked them and said no,’ said Beth, ‘but I think we should change our minds. I know that Debra and Evelyn will be there and I can’t imagine Hilda won’t be although she didn’t mention it. We can watch and observe. See if we come up with anything.’

  Stephen explained that he and the children were going fishing. ‘I d-don’t want to let them down.’

  ‘Nor should you,’ said James. ‘Anne, why don’t you do the sewing hour with Debra and Evelyn. Don’t put yourself in an awkward position, just observe. Beth, let’s you and I tag Hilda and see where she goes. If she attends this sewing thing, you could join up with Anne there. We’ll meet at The Pilchard to swap notes at six o’clock. If we have something to go on, we’ll head straight to the police station.’ He turned to Beth. ‘Does that mollify your concerns, darling?’

  Beth scrutinised him and eventually conceded. ‘Yes, I’m happy with that.’

  ‘D-don’t forget it’s our anniversary tomorrow,’ Stephen added. ‘W-we are still eating out aren’t we?’

  James assured him that a table was booked at The Sardine and hell or high water would not drag them away.

  With their afternoon plans in place, James and Beth drove back to Polpennarth to seek out Hilda Roscarrick.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  James steered Beth towards the fish and chip shop. ‘Let’s have a cup of tea and enquire after Flora. If we sit outside we can pick up Hilda if she’s about. Does she work?’

  ‘I believe she works part-time in the bakery, three mornings a week, so her afternoons are free. Whether she has other jobs, I don’t know. We’ll just have to cross our fingers she makes an appearance.’

  They entered the fish and chip shop. The lunch-time trade had been and gone and Vic stood behind the counter with a broad smile on his face.

  ‘Ah, Lord and Lady Harrington, how lovely to see you. I understand I’ve you to thank for helping my wife.’