The Suitcase In The Attic

by Daphne Neville

  “You’re right, it was busy,” Lottie conceded, “and I suppose to be fair it could have been something he’d eaten or perhaps he picked up a bug of some sort. There always seems to be something doing the rounds.”

  Hetty nodded. “Yes, but whatever, at least he’s alive and on the road to recovery. When he was first taken ill I thought he was a goner…he looked dreadful.”

  “So I’ve heard,” sighed Kitty, “I was helping give out hot drinks to our capsized churchgoers at the time but once word got out it spread across the beach like wildfire and we’d all heard the ambulance earlier so knew something was going on.”

  “Oh, the church had a raft. Which one was that?” Hetty tried to recall a churchlike team other than the monks whom she knew to be members of a football team.

  “The vampires,” giggled Kitty.

  “No, surely not.” Hetty was quite taken back. “You’re pulling my leg.”

  “I’m not. The vampires are all churchgoers and a couple are in the choir. What’s more, it was Vicar Sam’s idea to be vampires. He wants to get the message across that the church has a sense of humour and does not consist of narrow-minded fuddy-duddies. The youngsters love him.”

  “Hmm, a bit different to the last vicar then,” said Hetty, looking over her shoulder to check that the new vicar was not within earshot, “he was very old-school.”

  Kitty nodded. “Yes, he was and I must admit I’m glad he retired.”

  “Well I’m surprised the new chap didn’t dress up and go on the raft with them then,” said Lottie. “That really would have been a sight to behold.”

  “Well, apparently he wanted to but unfortunately he can’t swim and doesn’t like being on the water.” Kitty smiled. “I think he was afraid he might get seasick and he didn’t want the youngsters to think him a wimp.”

  “But it was flat calm,” Hetty stated.

  “The sea was, yes,” agreed Lottie, “but I should imagine it would have been pretty bumpy being on any of those rafts.”

  Kitty sighed. “I am so sorry I missed Simon. It was my intention to pop round and see him today. Still, never mind, these things happen. I just pray he gets well quickly and comes to visit again soon.”

  Zac was up and eating breakfast in the kitchen when they arrived back at Primrose Cottage.

  “Did you have a good party?” Lottie asked.

  “Yes, thanks, it was brill.”

  “Good,” Lottie reached for the kettle.

  “How’s Simon?” Zac asked, “I heard he was taken ill.”

  “Yes, he was and it looks like it was food poisoning,” said Hetty, as she slipped off her sandals, “but he’s on the mend.”

  Zac frowned. “So what did he eat? I mean, as far as I know no-one else got food poisoning yesterday. Not bad enough to be taken to hospital anyway.”

  “Yes, Kitty said something along those lines.”

  “I think it all sounds very dodgy,” Zac’s face was set in a frown, “Have the police been notified?”

  “Why? You’re not suggesting he might have been deliberately poisoned, are you, Zac?”

  “I’m not really suggesting anything. I just think it’s a bit odd. That’s all.”

  Hetty looked concerned. “Well if it was deliberate then whoever did it must have had a reason and since Simon is not a local, not now anyway, the only possible reason I can think of is that it must be something to do with David Tregear’s disappearance.”

  Lottie switched on the kettle. “Meaning someone might be trying to prevent any further investigations or something like that. Surely not.”

  “But why would they?” Zac asked. “I mean, if that were the case then whoever the poisoner was would be after you two rather than Simon. After all you’re the ones with the suitcase and the ones asking all the questions.”

  “Yes, but Simon is a Berryman and so has some knowledge of the family history, whereas we just know what we’ve been told.” Hetty put on her slippers, “Perhaps someone’s trying to shut him up in case he suddenly remembers something relevant.”

  “But that would suggest something sinister happened to David,” gasped Lottie.

  Hetty sat down at the kitchen table. “Perhaps it did and that’s why there’s no trace of him.”

  “You mean someone might have murdered David,” chortled Zac, “I think that’s highly unlikely although I suppose these things happen.”

  Hetty’s face was white. “It would certainly explain the hidden suitcase.”

  Lottie poured water into three mugs for coffee. “And if we’re on the right trail it would figure that whoever was guilty started the story that David had run away to avoid conscription in order to cover their tracks.”

  “I don’t like it,” grumbled Hetty.

  Lottie agreed. “Me neither and I’ve just thought of something else. The weird phone calls. They could have come from the same person who attempted to poison Simon.”

  “If he was deliberately poisoned.” When Hetty sipped her coffee she was conscious that her heart was beating much faster than normal. “Let’s hope it was something he ate which didn’t agree with him. Maybe he has an allergy that he was unaware of.”

  Lottie laughed. “But I thought you liked solving murder mysteries, Het.”

  “I do but not when they’re this close to home.”

  When Grace called round later that morning they told her of the theory they had discussed with Zac. The colour drained from her face. “That’s a horrible thought. I do hope you’re wrong.”

  “I expect we are,” said Hetty, who was beginning to warm to the idea, “but it’s fun to speculate and it makes our probing much more exciting.”

  “I agree,” laughed Lottie, “and for that reason I think we ought to get a white board so that we can write down all the facts and do some serious investigating.”

  Hetty nodded. “Good idea. And the first thing we need to find out is if anyone back in 1942 had a motive to um…dispose of David.”

  Grace looked shocked. “But do you think we ought? After all if someone has already tried to kill Simon because they thought he knew something then they might give us the same treatment.”

  “Hmm, that’s quite a good reason,” said Hetty, drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair, “actually it’s a very good reason but I think it’s hardly likely we’ll discover anything useful because there’s nothing really we can look into for clues, is there? So as far as I’m concerned it’s just a bit of harmless fun. Besides no-one will know, will they?”

  Grace had to smile. “But half the village already knows that you’re trying to find out what happened to David Tregear.”

  “That’s true,” Lottie agreed, “and I don’t think there are many secrets in this village that Tess doesn’t know about.”

  “Who’s Tess?” Grace asked.

  Lottie chuckled. “She’s a very nice lady who likes to keep up with the latest news.”

  “And then share it,” Hetty added.

  “You’ve probably seen her because she’s currently working part-time in Taffeta’s Tea Shoppe and no doubt somewhere else as well. It’s often tricky to keep track of her.” Lottie noticed that the old bear had fallen onto the floor.

  “Sounds like she’s someone to interrogate then,” laughed Grace. “She might even know something.”

  Lottie picked up the bear and sat him on her lap. “Be nice to think she did but I doubt it unless she’s a descendant of the Tregears or Berrymans and from what we’ve discovered so far I think that’s highly unlikely.”

  “I’ve just realised Malcolm and Belinda aren’t with you,” commented Hetty.

  “No, I told them I was coming round but they said since it was such a beautiful morning they thought they’d go and tour the Lizard Peninsula.” Grace laughed, “I think they’ll save visiting you for a rainy day.”

  “Can’t blame them for that,” said Hetty.

  “We’ve never been to the Lizard Peninsula, have we, Het? I think we ought to put it on our bucket
list.”

  Grace laughed. “Do you have one?”

  “No, but it’s what people say these days, isn’t it? To be honest I am quite happy to just plod along and take each day as it comes but then I never have been very adventurous.”

  “Anyway, back to the investigation,” insisted Hetty, slightly annoyed that she had caused them to deviate from their project, “I think rather than wait until we have a white board we must start writing down facts on a good old sheet of paper.” She turned to her sister, “Do we have any large sheets, Lottie?”

  “Lining paper,” suggested Lottie, as she stood up, sat the bear on the table and headed towards the door, “there’s a good half roll of it in the cupboard under the stairs. I’ll go and get it.”

  With a large section of lining paper pinned to the wall, the three ladies tried to think what to write.

  “Put a line down the middle and then head each side with the names of the two families,” said Lottie to Hetty who held the felt tipped pen.

  Hetty wrote Tregear on one side of the paper and Berryman on the other. “Now what?” she asked.

  “Write down on the relevant sides all family members who were still living in 1942 because that seems to be the year when David went missing. I refer to the fact he wasn’t at his brother’s funeral,” said Lottie.

  While Hetty wrote down names Grace tapped her fingers on the side of her coffee mug. “What about a girlfriend? I mean, he was thirty years old and a nice looking lad so he must have had a girlfriend. In which case she might in some way give us a motive. What do you think?”

  “Hmm,” mused Lottie, “it’s not a bad idea but there’s no way we could find that out so it’s not really possible to chase it up.”

  “I don’t know, I think we ought to pursue it,” Hetty agreed. “I mean, it could be that David stole another chap’s girl and the cheated chappie took exception.”

  “And did what?” Lottie asked.

  “Murdered him of course,” whispered Hetty, “after all that’s the reason for our current investigation and the white board.”

  “Lining paper,” corrected Lottie, “white board sounds too official and if I’m honest, murder seems a bit extreme as well, especially if we’re trying to pin it on some bloke who’d lost his girlfriend to another man.”

  Hetty tutted. “Stop putting spanners in the works, Lottie Burton. At this stage we’re only toying with ideas.”

  “Humph, a few hours ago you chose to believe Simon’s poisoning was something he ate and that no-one was trying to silence him now you’re seriously treating David’s disappearance as a murder investigation.”

  “We’re on safe ground,” snapped Hetty, “because we’re talking of something that happened seventy five years ago so the murderer would almost certainly be dead. What’s more I think you’re getting cold feet, Lottie and becoming a cowardy-custard.”

  Grace giggled and then on seeing Hetty’s stern look turned it into a cough.

  “Anyway, never mind the whys and wherefores. How can we find out if David had a girlfriend?” Hetty asked.

  “We can’t,” hissed Lottie, emphatically, “I’ve already said that because she, like the murderer, if there was one, will be dead.”

  Grace tried to look serious. “Okay, so let’s assume David was murdered by a rival. For now that gives us a motive but another question we need to answer is what would said murderer have done with the body?”

  Lottie’s face looked blank.

  Hetty looked thoughtful and then suddenly gasped. “I know. Perhaps the murderer broke into the Berryman’s chapel of rest the night before Peter’s funeral and put David in the coffin along with his brother. That way he’d never be found and it would explain why David wasn’t at his brother’s funeral.”

  Grace chuckled “But he would have been there if he were in the coffin.”

  Hetty scowled. “It’s no laughing matter, Grace Dunkerley.”

  “You mean, you’re serious?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Whoops, sorry.”

  “I agree with Grace, it’s a ridiculous idea,” spluttered Lottie, “for a start there wouldn’t be enough room. You read too many mystery books, Het.”

  Hetty obstinately shook her head. “I disagree. I’m sure Harold Berryman would have insisted his stepson’s coffin was of the very best quality and bigger and sturdier than most. Remember it was wartime too and because of food rationing people had less to eat then so the brothers were probably both quite skinny.”

  “Yes, it was wartime,” said Lottie, “and I think you’ll find that wood was rationed like lots of other things and instead of Harold being able to give his stepson a supersonic coffin it would have been simple, thin and lightweight.”

  Hetty scowled. “Up-country no doubt but this is Cornwall remember. Anyway, I daresay Harold could have got hold of some wood on the black market and made a nice coffin and from the outside no-one would have been able to tell whether it was thin or not.”

  “It’d weigh more if it was made with a thicker wood,” Lottie persisted.

  Grace laughed. “Especially if there were two people in it as you suggest.”

  Hetty scowled unable to come up with a satisfactory reply.

  “Anyway,” gushed Lottie, “going back to what you said a few minutes ago, Het. If someone had broken into the funeral parlour and popped David in with Peter, the police would have been called to investigate the break-in.”

  Grace nodded. “Yes, they would.”

  “Hmm, must have been an inside job then,” reasoned Hetty, tapping her foot as she thought.

  “An inside job,” spluttered Lottie, “that’s not possible because only Simon’s father, George and his Auntie Polly worked at the funeral parlour and David wouldn’t have stolen the girlfriends of either.”

  “Do you think Polly might have had a girlfriend then?” Grace asked.

  Lottie shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows what they got up to back then?”

  “Harold Berryman worked there too when it was busy,” Hetty reminded them.

  “And he was happily married to his second wife, Florence,” reasoned Lottie.

  “There must have been someone else then,” persisted Hetty.

  Lottie shook her head. “But as far as we know it was just run by the family.”

  “There was someone else,” gasped Hetty, as she leaned forward in her chair, “we’ve forgotten about the farm worker chappie who drove the hearse. Remember, Simon mentioned him and not only did he work on a farm and drive the hearse he was also crew on the lifeboat with David and he lodged here in this house with George, meaning he would have had access to the attic.”

  Lottie’s eyes were like saucers. “You could be right and I bet the hearse driver was old Jimmy.”

  Chapter Eleven

  On Monday morning, Hetty, Lottie and Zac moved things back into Zac’s room after Basil and Mark had carried up the heavier items of furniture. The freshly plastered ceiling was completely dry and looked as smooth as silk but it was decided not to paint it until September when Zac had gone home because they felt he had slept on the settee for long enough. There was also no carpet on the floor but Lottie took the rug from the dining room to put beside his bed.

  Just as Hetty reached the bottom of the stairs to check that they had not forgotten anything, the doorbell rang. It was a delivery man with the pond liner. At Hetty’s request, he dropped it in the hallway at the foot of the stairs.

  “Thank you, that’s very kind of you,” said Hetty as she eagerly signed for the consignment.

  “No problem.” As the delivery man retreated down the doorstep he turned, looked back and chuckled. “Lovely clump of pampas grass you’ve got there.” And to Hetty’s horror, he winked.

  “That horrible grass has to go,” muttered Hetty to herself as she quickly closed the door. When she caught sight of her reflection in the hall mirror, she was shocked to see that her cheeks were a bright crimson.

  Once everything was back in
Zac’s room and his bed was made, Hetty and Lottie carried the liner out into the back garden and laid it down beside the carpeted pond. Zac was already out there cutting the grass. Hetty thought about repeating the incident with the delivery man but changed her mind knowing her sister and Zac would most likely laugh.

  “I think we’ll wait for Grace to visit before we attempt to put it in,” remarked Hetty, “after all three brains are better than two. Besides, I know she’ll want to help because she’s as excited about our pond as we are.”

  “True and she’s bound to come round this afternoon to see if there’s any more news.”

  “I agree, so let’s have some lunch now and then if she’s not here by two, I’ll send her a text and ask her to come and give us a hand.”

  “Well, if there are going to be three of you to put the liner in you won’t need me,” reasoned Zac, as he wound up the lawn mower’s cable, “so will it be alright if I take Albert out? Emma’s coming round in a minute so we’ll take him for a nice long walk.”

  Hetty looked down at Albert whose tail was wagging nineteen to the dozen having heard the word walk. “I would very much appreciate it. The little fellow could do with some exercise but by the time we’ve finished here today I’ll be too knackered to take him any further than the end of the lane and back.”

  “Brilliant. I’ll just grab a sandwich then and when Em gets here we’ll be off.”

  By late afternoon the liner was in place and water was pouring into the black shiny pond through the hosepipe.

  “Do you have any large stones lying around?” Grace asked. “Because once the pond is full we’ll need to lay them round the outside to cover the edges and make it look tidy.”

  “We’d already thought of that,” said Lottie, proudly, “You’ll find a fairly big pile of stones in all shapes and sizes at the top of the garden near the compost heap. They’re from the wall at the end of the garden which has part fallen down but we won’t need them all because we’ve decided to have the wall much lower when it’s rebuilt so that we can see into the field when we’re in the garden.”