The Gentleman Vanishes

by Matthew Costello

  Interesting, thought Jack. Something going on there between those two …

  “This way,” said Lucinda.

  Jack turned. A long, carpeted corridor led away from each side of the stairs, ending in tall stained-glass windows at each far end.

  Lucinda and Eve were already heading off down the right-hand corridor.

  He hurried to join Sarah, then followed and caught them up half way down the corridor.

  “Excuse me. Sorry, but right now — no other family members live in the house apart from you two and Theo?” he said, as they passed door after door, ancestor after ancestor, down the long corridor.

  “No,” said Eve.

  “What about staff?” he said.

  “We have a gardener and one or two kitchen staff — they all live in Cherringham,” said Lucinda.

  “What about Seddon and Mary?”

  “They used to live over in Barton,” said Eve. “But when Daddy got ill, we moved them into the servants’ quarters here.”

  “And how long have they been with you?” said Sarah.

  “A year, maybe?” said Lucinda.

  “They an item?” said Jack.

  “Good Lord no,” said Eve. “Mary is Seddon’s daughter.”

  Jack looked to Sarah. Seddon was someone they should talk to.

  “Here’s Daddy’s room,” said Eve, stopping at a door, then opening it and entering.

  Jack followed Sarah, looking around carefully as he entered the room. The space was enormous: two tall, arched windows, looking across the open valley. Large double bed, rugs, paintings — a door to a bathroom.

  Lucinda walked over to the window.

  “Daddy loves watching the trains,” she said. “Look — there’s one now …”

  Jack joined her at the window.

  A couple of miles away, beyond fields and woods, he saw the old locomotive emerge from a cutting — smoke and steam billowing.

  “It sounds like he is quite a buff,” said Sarah. “Did he have some kind of work connection with the railways?”

  “No,” said Lucinda. “Back in the day, he worked in the city.”

  “But he’s absolutely loved trains ever since he was a child,” said Eve, sitting on a small armchair in the corner of the room. “He’s still got his model set upstairs in the attic.”

  “Really?” said Jack. “Mind if we take a look at that later?”

  Bit of a pause, Jack saw. Then:

  “Not at all,” said Eve with a shrug.

  Jack walked around the room, stopped at a large chest of drawers. He reached for one of the handles, turned to the sisters.

  “May I?”

  Another shrug. One by one he opened the drawers and checked the contents: a meagre quantity of shirts, sweaters, underwear, socks; all neatly pressed and folded. A small drawer of collar studs, cufflinks.

  Nothing unusual.

  He crossed the room — catching Sarah’s eye as he passed her — and started to check the wardrobe. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sarah turn to the sisters, notebook out again — she’d got the message.

  Perfect, he thought. Ask lots of questions. Gives me time to really look.

  “Tell me,” said Sarah. “Has anything like this ever happened with him before? Wandering off, disappearing?”

  “I think we would have said something, don’t you?” said Eve, and Jack heard irritation in her voice.

  “And how would you describe Bernard’s mood that day — the day he disappeared?”

  “Same as usual, for a Sunday,” said Lucinda. “Excited at the trip. But also — as usual — depressed at his physical state.”

  “Did he ever go out on his own?”

  “Are you listening? He was too frail,” said Eve. “If the weather was mild, he might sit out in the garden. But he never went further afield without one of us caring for him.”

  As Sarah’s questions continued, Jack opened the small writing desk.

  Everything neat and tidy. Pen, paper, envelopes. Not a scrap of anything personal.

  More like a hotel room, he thought. Or a room that’s been cleared of evidence …

  Odd.

  Each side of the bed — stood a small cabinet. He opened both. Once again — nearly empty.

  Not even any bedside reading …

  Into the bathroom. Here, he could see heavy metal handles had been fitted for support on the walls. Made sense …

  In the bath, some kind of device — he guessed for lifting Bernard in and out.

  With a look around, he quickly opened the medicine cabinet. Nothing there — just a single razor and cream. A toothbrush. No medicines, none of the usual mix-up of ointments, bottles, tubes that every such cabinet usually contains. No prescription medicines, not even any pain-killers.

  Guess they keep all that stuff secure somewhere, he thought.

  He took one final look around, then went back into the bedroom. Sarah seemed to have run out of questions for now.

  And so had he — though there was one more room he wanted to see.

  “The model railway?” he said. “That in the house?”

  “In the attic,” said Eve, ostentatiously checking her watch.

  “Just a quick look,” said Jack, smiling. “If you don’t mind. I’m sure you’re all very keen to get back out there looking for Bernard, but while Sarah and I are here, best to be thorough.”

  “Of course,” said Lucinda, heading for the door, “this way.”

  *

  Sarah watched Jack crouch low to get through the attic door. Even for her, it was a tiny entrance.

  “These were the servants’ quarters,” said Eve. “Daddy had the walls knocked through for his layout.”

  “His pride and joy,” said Lucinda.

  Sarah took in the spectacle: the darkened room tucked under the eaves, lit only by a tiny window, thirty-foot square and filled with a massive train layout at table-top height.

  She stepped forward.

  “Look — there’s Cherringham!” she said, pointing at a village on the edge of the layout. “Or at least, part of it.”

  “Daddy jumbled lots of Cotswolds areas together,” said Eve.

  “Amazing,” said Jack, bending down and peering at the empty stretch of river by Cherringham Bridge. “This thing still work?”

  She watched as Eve stepped over to a control panel, flicked switches. One by one the street lights of the village lit up, the station, the roads …

  Jack walked over to stand by Eve. “Used to have a model railway when I was a kid,” he said. “Nowhere near this size, of course. But same principle. You mind?”

  He reached out to one of the banks of dials, and turned it. On the far side of the track, a train began to move, the lights in its carriages glowing.

  Sarah watched as it made a circuit of the track, then disappeared into a tunnel.

  She waited — and a few seconds later it emerged. Jack guided it to a station and brought it to a stop. Then he stepped away from the controls and stood close to Lucinda and Eve.

  “Question,” he said. “Didn’t want to discuss in front of your brother.”

  “His drinking — yes?” said Eve.

  “Exactly,” said Jack. “We need to know how reliable is his account of that day? Could he have gotten things the wrong way round? Missed your father completely as he left the train?”

  Sarah watched the two women carefully.

  “When we heard what had happened,” said Lucinda, “I must confess it was our first thought.”

  “But too many people have corroborated his story,” said Eve.

  “What happened, happened,” said Lucinda.

  Jack nodded. He’d clearly chosen this small room, away from the brother and the staff, to get things out into the open.

  “Okay,” he said. “Second question: how wealthy is your father? And I don’t mean what is the value of this house. I mean — if you needed to raise cash urgently, could the family do it? And might that be reasonably public knowledge?”


  “Oh, God,” said Lucinda, stepping back. “You don’t think … he’s been kidnapped?”

  Sarah watched her reaction carefully. Unless Lucinda was a very good actor — the woman was genuinely shocked. She then looked at Eve. The sister was nodding slowly, face a mask.

  “Daddy has an extensive portfolio of shares and investments,” she said. “I imagine — even at short notice — some of that could be liquidated. Yielding perhaps — a million? Two?”

  “And if you had longer?” said Sarah.

  “Ten. Twenty?” said Eve.

  Sarah saw Jack give a low whistle.

  “But Mr Brennan,” said Eve, “an obvious question. If Daddy has been kidnapped — why no ransom demand? This happened nearly a week ago.”

  Jack shrugged. “Sometimes, kidnappers wait a while for the initial fuss to die down. A week. A month — it’s not unknown. They wait — and they watch.”

  “Oh God,” said Lucinda. “You think there could be people out there somewhere — watching us right now?”

  “It’s possible,” said Jack. “But if there are — look at it this way — gives us even more chance of catching them and finding your father.”

  “Right! Which is why you’re here,” said Eve. “Now — if you don’t mind — shall we go downstairs? This room …”

  Sarah could see that the woman was uneasy up here. Perhaps too many memories of her father.

  “I think we’re probably finished for now — don’t you agree Jack?”

  “Sure. You and I need to head off, put a plan together.”

  They walked back to the door. As they did, Jack paused at a small TV, with a stack of DVDs next to it.

  “Interesting collection,’ he said, reading some of the titles. “Murder on the Orient Express, Some Like It Hot, The Great Train Robbery, Strangers on a Train …”

  “They’ve all got trains in,” said Sarah.

  “The only kind of film Daddy liked,” said Eve.

  “We’ll see you downstairs,” said Lucinda, leading the way out of the attic.

  *

  Seddon pulled open the heavy front door and Jack and Sarah stepped out and stood at the top of the broad stone steps. The sun was setting, and Jack could see a low mist creeping across the flat plain that stretched away for miles.

  “Awfully good of you to drop by,” came Lucinda’s voice behind them. They turned to shake hands with the two sisters.

  “Give my regards to your brother,” said Jack.

  He saw the sisters nod, roll their eyes.

  Jack looked over at the butler, who stood waiting.

  Listening …

  Eve caught Jack’s look, then turned: “That will be all, Seddon, we can see our guests out, thank you.”

  “Ma’am,” said Seddon, face set, turning and slipping back into the house.

  “Um, one last question,” said Jack. “You had any unexpected visitors to the house in the last few months? Anybody … unusual?”

  He saw the two women immediately look at each other.

  Sometimes a shot in the dark hits a mark …

  “Why yes,” said Lucinda. “There was somebody, a couple of months back.”

  “A woman—”

  “Very odd! Said she was an old friend of Daddy’s, happened to be in the area, wanted to see him—”

  “Chat about old times.”

  “And was she an old friend?” said Sarah.

  “No, not at all!” said Eve.

  “Daddy didn’t know the name. So we sent her packing.”

  “Did she get in touch again?” said Jack.

  “Couldn’t get rid of her!” said Lucinda. “Kept phoning!”

  “Even had to threaten her with the police,” said Eve.

  “That stopped her.”

  “You got a name?” said Sarah.

  “Hmm, not sure,” said Eve. “Laura something?”

  “Grimoni?” said Lucinda. “Grisoni? Something like that.”

  “Well, if you remember any more, let us know, please. Meanwhile, any other visitors, perhaps you can make a list for us? We’ll need to check them all out. And of course, any suspicions you might have — about staff, neighbours, suppliers to the house. If Mr Mandeville has been kidnapped there will be somebody on the inside helping them.”

  “Oh God,” said Lucinda. You don’t think—?”

  “One thing I would ask,” said Jack. “Keep this to yourselves. And especially, I would ask you not to mention it to your brother. You don’t want him discussing this with any drinking buddies he might have out there.”

  “Of course,” said Eve. “Makes sense. Anything else you think we should do?”

  “I hope I’m not right about this,” said Jack, “but — if I am — when the kidnappers make contact you will have to decide whether to bring in the police or not.”

  “And your advice would be?”

  “I hope it doesn’t come to that,” said Jack. “Before that happens, I hope we have found out how your father disappeared. And I hope we will have found him safe and well.”

  “I do hope so too,” said Eve.

  Jack turned to Sarah and nodded towards the car. She followed him down the steps and they climbed in.

  As he started the engine, he gave the house one last look in the gathering dusk: the two women on the threshold; at a window to one side, Seddon, in shadow, staring out; and at the big windows of the drawing room where they had all met, Theo, glass in hand, watching.

  He flicked the headlights on, and they pulled away down the gravel drive, tyres crunching. When they reached the automatic gate, they waited for it to open.

  Sarah turned to him.

  “Yes?” he said, grinning.

  “Okay. I know one thing,” said Sarah. “Bernard Mandeville didn’t sleep in that bedroom. Right?”

  “Agree,” said Jack. “Which means they’re lying about something.”

  “But why?”

  “Now that’s a good question. Because this looks to me like a classic kidnap.”

  The gate opened and they drove through, Jack accelerating onto the main road back to Cherringham.

  “We’re going to be busy,” he said. “Got a lot of people to talk to.”

  “And a lot of people to check up on,” said Sarah. “I was going to suggest dinner — but you know what? Think I’d better get home, clear the decks a bit.”

  “Domestic duties?”

  “You guessed it. Football kit to wash, fridge to stock up. House to run.”

  Jack knew that when they had a case on, Sarah had to work hard to balance her job and being mom with the extra hours.

  Whereas back on his barge, The Grey Goose, he just had to make sure his spaniel, Riley, got his two walks and his supper.

  He flicked a quick glance across at her.

  She was staring out of the window at the darkening fields whizzing by, then she turned back to him, face set: “And Jack — something tells me we may not have much time …”

  6. The Scene of the Crime

  Sarah pulled into the near-empty car park of the Cherringham Junction station of the Great Cotswolds Steam Railway.

  She didn’t think she’d visited the place before.

  But now she remembered bringing Daniel up here on a school outing when he was in year six, soon after she returned to Cherringham, kids in tow, to live with her parents.

  That had been such a low time for her, the tail end of a messy divorce, uprooted from London back to Cherringham with two young kids …

  “They even running today?” Jack asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  She and Jack had decided that it was best if they hit the scene of … whatever had happened, first thing in the morning.

  Not even thinking that the train might not run on a weekday.

  But now as she stopped and pulled on the handbrake, she saw a giant forest-green locomotive, smoky white billows from its front being whipped away by the steady breeze.

  “Think so. That thing looks ready to go
!”

  And as they climbed out of the car, they could see a handful of spectators on the platform watching the locomotive.

  “Gotta say, this may be the most entertaining spot for our little investigation to begin,” said Jack. “All set?”

  And she nodded, thinking, as they walked to the ticket office, We’ve had cases where we had little to go on …

  But this one?

  She felt that they knew absolutely nothing except one undeniable fact: Bernard Mandeville had vanished.

  *

  Jack stayed back as she went up to the jail-like grill of the ticket window.

  A dapper man in full uniform, hat perfectly perched on his head, stood at the window, apparently ready for an onslaught of passengers … which didn’t seem to be coming, at least today.

  “Good morning, madam,” he said quickly, a bright smile on his face.

  “Good morning,” said Sarah.

  And already she felt like she had taken a step back to a century ago: the waiting locomotive not far away, clouds of smoke erupting from its great steam engine, stacks of old leather luggage on the platform.

  And this man, in near period costume here.

  Jack took a step closer, cocking an ear.

  “Yes, we’re, um … we’re wondering if we could ask you a few questions?”

  And at that, of course, the station manager’s smile faded. She looked at his nameplate, brass with black letters.

  Reg Syms.

  “Mr Syms, we’re looking into the disappearance of Bernard Mandeville. At the request of his family.”

  Syms looked away, his performance as old-time station manager thrown off balance.

  “I have talked — at length — to the police, and told them absolutely everything I know. Which, needless to say, isn’t much!”

  At that, Jack leaned in. Sarah saw that her partner wore the familiar — for her — “Jack Brennan smile”.

  Disarming, to be sure.

  But also with a bit of force. People tended to pay attention when Jack gave them that look.

  “Mr Syms … Reg … the family is deeply worried. I mean, not every day someone just vanishes from a train, now is it? So how about … indulge us … just a few questions?”

  Reg hesitated, then took a drastic breath.

  “Very well. Tim, you man the window. And you two, come around to the side door.”