The Suitcase In The Attic

by Daphne Neville

  “Brilliant, let’s go and fetch them down.”

  When the pond was full and the stones were artistically laid, the ladies sat with mugs of tea admiring their handiwork.

  “Strange but it’s fascinating to watch even with nothing in it other than reflections,” whispered Hetty, “It’s really calming.”

  “There’s something in it now,” chuckled Lottie, “Look, there’s a water boatman swimming on the surface.”

  “Talking of boatmen, is there any news yet about David’s boat?” Grace asked.

  “Sadly not,” said Lottie, “Every time the phone rings I hope it’ll be Bernie with good news but so far there’s been nothing. Still it’s early days yet and the boat might not even be in Cornwall now.”

  “Or if it is it might be in a garden somewhere full of flowers,” suggested Hetty.

  Lottie laughed. “No, Het. The Goliath was a fishing boat so it’d be far too big to fill with plants. Boats used to display flowers are usually little rowing boats or punts.”

  “My goodness me, look at the time,” Grace sprang to her feet, “I must go back and change. I’m going out for a meal with the Jacksons tonight.”

  “Very nice,” said Lottie.

  Grace tilted her head to one side as she stood to leave. “Is that the phone I can hear?”

  “Yes, it is,” Hetty ran indoors to catch it before it stopped ringing. When she picked up the receiver she was delighted to hear the voice of Bernie the Boatman. “Talk of the devil. We were just chatting about you and the Goliath.”

  Bernie chuckled. “Well, I never because that’s why I’m ringing. I’ve found it, you see. Of all places it’s in one of the Liddicott-Treen’s out-buildings at Pentrillick House and has been there since the nineteen seventies.”

  “Really. I wonder what it’s doing up there.”

  “Well apparently Tristan’s father bought it at an auction of fishing boats and equipment with every intention of doing it up, but he never got round to it and it has remained untouched ever since.”

  “That’s wonderful news. Do you think we could go and see it?”

  “Yes, Tristan said to give him a ring when you want to go up there and he’ll show it to you himself.”

  “I shall ring straight away. Thank you so much, Bernie. We really appreciate it. You’re a star.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “Has Grace gone?” Hetty asked, as she returned to the garden.

  “Yes, she said to say goodbye.”

  “Oh, never mind we can tell her the news when we next see her.” She then told Lottie the nature of the phone call. After discussing it briefly the sisters decided to view the boat the following day and Hetty rang Tristan to see if that was possible; it was. She then phoned the hairdressers and made an appointment to have her hair cut. Something she had been meaning to do for several days.

  After a brief discussion, Zac and Emma decided to take Albert along the main street of Pentrillick and out into the open countryside, then down the lane which led to Pentrillick House.

  “I see the blackberries are ripening,” said Emma, as they passed brambles laden with fruit in the hedgerow, “I must tell Mum because she loves making blackberry and apple jam.”

  “And I expect you like eating it,” Zac teased.

  “Hmm…yes, but strawberry is my favourite especially if it’s homemade.”

  “I like apricot but then I’m pretty fond of raspberry too.”

  Emma laughed. “What would the others say if they could hear us talking about jam?”

  “They’d say we were nuts. Still, they’re not here so it doesn’t matter.”

  “No, anyway, is there any more news yet about that poor chap who was taken ill on Raft Race day? What poisoned him, I mean.”

  Zac shook his head. “No, and there’s no indication as to what the poison was but I do know he’s a lot better. We think it’s a bit odd, I mean it could have been something he ate or drank but then again there’s always the possibility that someone might have slipped something in his drink at the pub. Don’t laugh but Grandma and Auntie Het are treating David Tregear’s disappearance as a murder investigation.”

  Emma laughed. “Sorry, but why?”

  “Because if Simon was deliberately poisoned they reckon whoever did it was trying to shut him up. Simon being a Berryman.”

  Emma tutted. “That’s crazy. Whatever put that idea into their heads?”

  “Not what but who. It was me you see. I sort of said it jokingly but they’ve taken it seriously. At least Auntie Het has. I’m not so sure about Grandma as I think she’s more level headed.”

  “Okay, so just for a laugh who might have poisoned Simon?”

  “Now that’s the sixty four million dollar question.”

  “Isn’t it just, and did you say they suspect it was done in the pub?”

  “Yes, they believe his drink was tampered with during the race.”

  Emma frowned. “In which case your gran and aunt must have some idea of who it might have been as they were with him at that time.”

  “I don’t think they’ve really given that much thought. They seem more interested in finding out who killed David Tregear even though there’s not a shred of evidence to suggest that he was murdered.”

  “Except for the fact his suitcase was hidden.”

  “Spot on.”

  “I wonder if we can help in any way.”

  “Hmm, it’s a pity we weren’t in the pub when Simon keeled over because if we had been we’d be able to toss around a few names of people in the vicinity.”

  “Well, we can do it the other way round, I suppose,” laughed Emma, “What I mean is, we know who wasn’t in the pub because they were on the beach.”

  “Which in retrospect seemed to be just about the whole village.”

  “Exactly, so who might it have been? Do you know who your gran and aunt were with, other than the chap who was poisoned, that is?”

  “Simon, he’s the chap who was poisoned and with him was his wife Sheila. Then there was Grace, you know, she’s staying in the guest house next door. I think Tommy and Kitty were with them too. No, no, forget that because Kitty was on the beach cheering on the vampires.”

  “Who didn’t even get half way round the course.”

  “And they weren’t the only ones.”

  “So were Sheila, Simon and Grace the only ones with your gran and aunt?”

  “Yes, no, no I’d forgotten the Jacksons. They didn’t go down with them but met them while they were there.”

  “Who are the Jacksons?”

  “A couple who are staying at the guest house next door. I don’t know their Christian names and I’ve not met them but Grace was telling Grandma and Auntie Het that they’d like to see the suitcase because they’re interested in history or something like that.”

  Emma sighed. “I see, so really they were all friends. Well, acquaintances anyway.”

  “Yes, but anyone could have slipped something in Simon’s drink when the race was on because apparently he’d put his glass down on the table behind him.”

  Emma groaned. “So unless Ashley and Alison have CCTV cameras in the pub there’s no way of telling who it might have been.”

  “Precisely and as it happens I know the police have asked Ashley about CCTV because Kyle told me.”

  “And do they have it?”

  Zac shook his head. “Regrettably not.”

  “Oh dear, it doesn’t look like we can be of any help after all then.”

  The following morning as Hetty and Lottie were getting ready to go to Pentrillick House, Grace called to see them.

  “Oh, are you off out somewhere?” she asked, observing the sisters were both in the hallway and wearing shoes instead their usual slippers.

  Hetty opened the door wide. “Yes, but do come in because we’re not quite ready.”

  Lottie nodded in agreement. “We have to make coffee for Basil and Mark before we go otherwise we’ll be in trouble. Normally Zac makes it i
f we go out but he’s out himself. He’s gone kayaking with Emma and Kyle.”

  “So are you going anywhere nice or just shopping?” Grace was curious.

  “We’re going to Pentrillick House because Bernie has tracked down David’s boat, you know, Goliath and so we’re eager to see it. Not that seeing it will shed any light on the mystery.”

  “I’ll go and make the coffee while you chat to Grace,” Lottie went into the kitchen.

  “Okay.” Hetty turned back to face Grace. “As I just said the boat’s at Pentrillick House and apparently has been for a good many years. We’re meeting Tristan Liddicott-Treen there at twelve. Apparently the boat was bought at an auction by his late father who intended to restore it but never got round to it.”

  “It’s probably in quite a bad way then after all this time,” said Grace, “if it’s been neglected, that is.”

  “Yes, I expect it is, even though it will have been under cover all the time it’s been at Pentrillick House.”

  “Anyway, if you’re off out I’ll leave you to get on.” Grace turned towards the door.

  “No, no, don’t go. Come with us? You can have a look around the house and grounds then as it’s well worth seeing. We can have lunch in the café too.”

  “Are you sure?” Grace seemed hesitant, “I mean, I’d love to go with you but don’t want you to feel obliged to ask me just because I’m here.”

  “Don’t be silly, of course we don’t mind. It’d be nice to have your company and I’m sure you’re probably as keen to help solve this mystery as we are.”

  “True, but just give me a minute to pop back to get my jacket and handbag. If we’re having lunch out I insist on paying.”

  Hetty suggested that Lottie should drive and that Grace should sit in the front passenger seat. As the car left the drive and turned into Blackberry Way, Grace asked if the police had had any luck finding out how Simon had been poisoned.

  “No luck whatsoever,” said Hetty, as Tommy with Kitty emerged round the corner with Fagan on his lead. All three ladies waved to the walkers. “Nor do I expect there to be,” Hetty continued, “I mean, there’s nothing really to go on with all traces of his beer lost because his glass had been washed and as far as what he ate that day, Sheila reckons they both ate pretty much the same.”

  “Well yes, and they had breakfast at Tuzzy-Muzzy and the other guests, myself included, are all fine,” reflected Grace.

  “And I don’t think the police are taking it that seriously anyway because the poison wasn’t anywhere near enough to kill him,” added Lottie.

  Hetty leaned back and fastened her seat belt. “As for trying to find out if David had a girlfriend or who drove the hearse for the Berrymans and lodged at Primrose Cottage with George, we’ve got absolutely nowhere because there’s simply no-one to ask. It’s most frustrating. If only we had some names to go on although there’s always the possibility that the hearse driver was old Jimmy to whom Peter referred on the postcard but as for a girlfriend that’s a no goer.”

  “Perhaps Simon will suddenly remember the hearse driver’s name,” said Grace, trying to be positive. “You know it’ll suddenly come to him in the middle of the night, like things do.”

  “We can but hope,” laughed Hetty.

  The car wound its way down the hill and as it neared the bottom of Long Lane Lottie applied the brakes but to her horror they appeared to be ineffectual. She tried again but the car continued to gather speed.

  “The brakes are not working,” she screamed, slamming her foot repeatedly on the pedal, “oh my God, the brakes are not working.”

  “Use the hand brake,” Hetty shouted, as she tried with trembling fingers to unfasten her seatbelt. But Lottie’s screams drowned out her words and Grace seemed to have gone into a trance.

  As the car hurtled towards the bottom of the hill, Lottie half closed her eyes and, clutching the steering wheel, prepared to turn quickly right to avoid crashing into the Crown and Anchor opposite. Meanwhile, coming along the street at a steady pace was a lorry. As the car shot out of the lane in front of it, the lorry driver slammed on his brakes. He skidded and missed the car with just inches to spare. Lottie was a trembling wreck as the car drew level with the pub’s car park and abruptly stopped. Hetty, having finally released her seatbelt, had stretched her arm in between the front seats and pulled on the hand brake.

  The driver of the lorry, himself badly shaken, jumped from his cab and hurled abuse at Lottie who covered her face and burst into tears. Meanwhile, Hetty seated in the back wound down the window and told him what had happened.

  Alison Rowe, Landlady of the Crown and Anchor, was out in the pub’s smoking area sweeping the floor when she heard the lorry screech to a halt and the screams and shouting that followed. Realising someone was in trouble, she tossed the broom to one side and ran to see if anyone was hurt. She found all three passengers trembling with fear and wiping tears from their eyes. The lorry driver feeling his legs might give way was sitting on the kerb. Before Alison attempted to help the ladies out of the vehicle she called into the pub for others to help escort the shaken passengers inside the building. She then asked the lorry driver if he was alright.

  “Yes, thanks, love. I’m okay now. The old ticker’s beginning to slow back down and there’s no damage done.”

  “Can I get you a coffee or something?”

  “No, no I’m fine, honestly and I really ought to be getting on my way.” He stood up. “I hope the ladies are alright and please tell the driver I’m sorry I shouted. I didn’t realise her brakes weren’t working.”

  “Of course,” Alison watched the lorry drive away and then went into the pub to relay the message. She found the ladies sitting in the warm sunshine on the terrace with glasses of brandy given to them by Ashley. After hearing from the ladies what had happened, Alison phoned Vince Royale who owned the garage on the outskirts of the village so that he could pick up the car with his breakdown truck and establish what was wrong with the brakes. She also suggested the ladies seek medical help for all seemed badly shaken but they declined and insisted they were already feeling much better. However, Hetty did make a phone call to Pentrillick House to let Tristan Liddicott-Treen know what had happened and to apologise for having to cancel the viewing of the boat.

  Vince Royale came out with his rescue vehicle and took the car back to his garage. He told the sisters they could have a courtesy car while he looked into the problem. Hetty thanked him and said not to worry as they could always take the bus and it was good to walk anyway. However, Alison thought it unwise for the ladies to walk home as all three seemed a little unsteady and so she drove them back to Blackberry Way herself.

  Later in the afternoon, as Hetty and Lottie sat on the doorstep in the front garden of Primrose Cottage, a police car pulled up by their gates. Grace was not with them; she had returned to Tuzzy-Muzzy to lie down. Two police officers stepped from the car. Both sisters stood up concerned that something might be wrong.

  “Good afternoon, ladies. We’re here about the near accident you had this morning.” voiced the older of the two policemen. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine, fine,” gushed Lottie, “aren’t we, Het?

  Hetty nodded. “Yes, we are now. Would you like a cup of tea? We were just thinking of having one.”

  “That would be very nice, thank you.”

  All four went indoors.

  “Please excuse the banging,” urged Lottie, seeing both police officers look upwards, “we’re having a loft conversion done.”

  “Very nice too,” said the younger officer, “you have lovely views up here.”

  When the tea was made and they were all seated in the sitting room, Hetty and Lottie were told that the brakes on their car had been tampered with.

  Hetty’s face turned white. “Are you sure? I mean, we’d assumed the car’s brakes failed through wear and tear or whatever but if it’s true that they were tampered with then it looks as though someone was trying to kill us.”r />
  “Or frighten us,” Lottie added, unwilling to accept her sister’s surmise.

  “Precisely,” agreed the older officer, “and for those reasons I need to know if there is anyone who might wish to harm either or both of you?”

  “Well no,” declared Hetty, “we’ve only been living here since early December and as far as we know we’ve not made any enemies. But I must admit it’s a little unnerving that this should have happened to us so soon after what happened to Simon Berryman the other day.”

  “And then there’s the phone calls too,” blurted Lottie, “I wouldn’t be at all surprised if they’re not linked as well.”

  “Phone calls?” queried the younger officer, “perhaps you’d like to tell us more.”

  Lottie explained about the phone calls. The younger officer took down notes and said that they would arrange for calls on their phone line to be intercepted in order to trace their source.

  “Are you friends with Mr Berryman?” asked the older officer, “because I believe you were with him when he was taken ill?”

  Hetty nodded. “That’s right, we were but we’ve only known him for a week or so. He used to live here you see, many years ago and we got in touch with him hoping he might know something about the suitcase we found in the attic and what happened to its owner, David Tregear who appears to have disappeared without trace back in the nineteen forties.”

  “A suitcase and a missing person,” repeated the older officer, “perhaps you’d like to elaborate on that.”

  Hetty stood up. “Okay. You start the story, Lottie, while I fetch the suitcase.”

  Following the meeting with Hetty and Lottie, the police spent some time accumulating evidence regarding the possible poisoning of Mr Simon Berryman, the tampering of the brakes on Ms Henrietta Tonkin’s car and the anonymous phone calls to Ms Tonkins and her sister Mrs Burton.

  They also looked into the possibility that David Tregear, a train driver, was murdered by an unknown man who drove the hearse for the Berryman family’s funeral business of whom they could find no records but who might possibly have been called Jimmy.