The Inspector de Silva Mysteries

by Harriet Steel

  ‘Excellent, glad to hear it.’

  Wynne-Talbot turned to de Silva. ‘Inspector! It’s a great pleasure to meet you again. I’m sorry we haven’t had a chance to talk. I hope we can remedy that later on. I’d be most interested to hear more about your work.’ He smiled. ‘I’m sure you have a lot of stories to tell.’

  De Silva laughed. ‘Indeed I do, sir.’

  Wynne-Talbot clapped him on the back. ‘But I mustn’t keep you gentlemen from the ladies. Shall we go?’

  In the drawing room, he found Jane and they spent a while chatting with other guests. There was no dancing that evening, so the party broke up shortly after eleven o’clock. He fetched Jane’s wrap for her and they went outside to the Morris.

  ‘A pleasant evening,’ he remarked as they drove home under a starlit sky. ‘I even managed to have a very civil conversation with Hebden.’

  ‘Why ever shouldn’t you? I’m sure he never really took offence over the Renshaw case.’

  ‘Perhaps not. How did you get on with your neighbours?’

  ‘Very well. Reverend Peters and I discussed the fête over the fish course. He was asking if I thought you could be persuaded to help with setting up some of the games and maybe stay on during the afternoon for anything else that needs doing.’

  ‘I expect I can manage that.’

  ‘Thank you, dear, that’s very kind. On my other side I had Joan Buscott’s husband – I saw she was sitting next to you. He’s such a nice man. Not that I would expect him to be anything else when he’s married to Joan. It turns out that he’s fond of detective stories too, so we had plenty to chat about. He was telling me about their early years in Ceylon as well. I’d no idea they’d lived in so many parts of the country. They came out forty years ago and his first job was to do with the construction of the railway from Kandy up to Jaffna.’

  ‘That must have been most interesting work.’

  ‘So he said, although he never got used to the heat up there. He was very excited to hear that Ralph Wynne-Talbot had been involved in the building of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. I think he was hoping for an opportunity to talk to him about it.’

  ‘He may have done so. I noticed that Buscott moved to Wynne-Talbot’s end of the table when you ladies retired for coffee.’

  Jane frowned. ‘There was one wrong note before you joined us. Helen Wynne-Talbot was extremely rude to poor Joan. Most unexpected, and it showed her in a new, and not very attractive, light.’

  ‘How strange. I’m surprised anyone would find the need to be rude to Mrs Buscott.’

  ‘So am I. Joan’s the kindest of ladies, and very modest, even though she’s extremely well connected and many people in her position would be quite the reverse. She made some perfectly innocuous remark and that Wynne-Talbot woman was quite snappish with her.’

  De Silva thought of what Hebden had revealed but decided that, as he had promised to keep it confidential, he shouldn’t mention the conversation, even to Jane. It was odd, though. You would think that, even in low spirits, Helen Wynne-Talbot would try to be polite to her host and hostess’s guests when such a fine dinner had been arranged in her honour.

  ‘And I’d thought she was shy,’ Jane went on. ‘Well, if she is, she has a strange way of showing it.’

  ‘Never mind, I’m sure Mrs Buscott has the good sense to soar above such things.’

  ‘To rise, dear, she’s not an eagle.’

  He chuckled. ‘No, if she were a bird, I believe she would be something calm and gentle like a dove. Or possibly wise, like an owl, dispensing good advice.’ He eased his foot off the pedal then accelerated out of the bend. ‘The husband – Mr Wynne-Talbot I mean – went out of his way to be pleasant. He stopped purposely to speak to Hebden and me. He seems to be under the impression that police work is very interesting and I did not disillusion him.’

  Jane reached out and tapped his knee. ‘It is interesting, you know it is.’

  ‘In your books, yes, but in life there is a great deal of time when it is perfectly dull. A good thing really. Nuala does not want murders and bank robberies all the time. Especially when there is only myself to solve them.’

  ‘What about your sergeant and your constable? Don’t forget them.’

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t. Nadar may still be very inexperienced but his day will come. Prasanna is a bright young man and I have high hopes for him too, but he also needs time.’

  A shadow flickered in the trees by the roadside and he braked as a spotted deer, followed swiftly by two more, shot out. They stopped for a moment, transfixed in the headlights, before bounding away into the trees on the other side.

  Jane gasped. ‘My goodness, that was close. How awful if we’d hit one of them.’

  ‘Yes, and worse if it had been an elephant. I told you I came across one once on the road from Colombo to Kandy and had to reverse and wait until it wandered away.’

  ‘You did. It must have been most alarming.’

  ‘A little, but we have to live together, man and beast. They do not attack unless we attack them.’

  ‘Or if they’re hungry.’

  ‘That too. I’m sure a hungry leopard would consider Florence Clutterbuck a plump and tasty morsel and much easier to catch than those spotted deer.’

  ‘That’s very naughty.’

  ‘Only joking.’

  They fell into a companionable silence for a while. ‘One of her soirées came in useful though,’ he said at last. ‘I was able to impress Hebden with my knowledge of Shakespeare.’

  ‘Oh really?’

  ‘The speech of Ophelia’s when she speaks of how much Hamlet has changed.’

  ‘You remembered all of it?’

  ‘Not all, just a few words. But I could see he was awe-struck.’

  Jane giggled. ‘Shanti, how much did you have to drink while I wasn’t watching?’

  ‘Mmm – one malt whisky? Maybe two.’

  ‘Well, go slowly. You know you don’t usually drink much and I want us to get home in one piece.’

  ‘Oh, we will, have no fear. Not far to go now.’

  They turned into their road and the Morris was soon scrunching up the drive. Jane waited for him to come round to her side of the car and open the door for her.

  She stood on the drive and gazed up at the sky for a few moments.

  ‘How beautiful the stars are tonight. I’m so glad we came here, Shanti. I don’t miss Colombo in the slightest.’

  ‘Neither do I. Give me the quiet life any day.’

  Arm in arm they went inside, leaving the garden to the creatures of the night.

  Chapter 4

  A few days later, he arrived at the station to find Constable Nadar with his head resting on his desk, apparently fast asleep. De Silva cleared his throat noisily and the constable jumped to attention as if he had been bitten by a snake.

  De Silva raised an eyebrow. ‘Good morning.’

  ‘Inspector, sir! Forgive me. I only closed my eyes for a few moments. My wife and I had no sleep last night. Our baby son is teething.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that. If it’s quiet today, I may be able to let you go early. Go and make us both some tea. That should wake you up.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Nadar scuttled off to the back room and de Silva heard the sound of the Calor gas ring hissing into life and the clatter of spoons on china. ‘Where’s Sergeant Prasanna got to this morning?’ he asked when Nadar returned a few minutes later with the tea.

  ‘Gone to the bazaar, sir.’

  ‘Oh? Has something happened there?’

  ‘I’m not sure, sir.’ Nadar’s tone was evasive.

  ‘Well, he’d better not be long unless he has a good reason. He has a report to write up about those bicycles that were stolen on Monday.’ He took his cup. ‘I’ll drink this in my office. Tell Prasanna to knock when he gets here.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  It was odd, he thought as he sat at his desk sipping his tea. Prasanna had been behaving stran
gely for a week or more. He was often distracted and at lunchtimes, he no longer dragged Nadar out to the backyard to practise cricket. Whatever was troubling him, it looked as if Nadar was in on it but unwilling to divulge any information. Surely it couldn’t be anything sinister? Prasanna was always conscientious and it was impossible to believe he was dishonest. No, there must be another explanation.

  A lightbulb went on in de Silva’s head. A girl: that was probably it. There were many pretty girls shopping or helping on their family stalls at the bazaar. Well, if that was the answer, he hoped Prasanna’s formidable mother would approve.

  He had been working on his papers for several hours when there was a knock at the door.

  ‘Come in!’

  The door opened and Prasanna appeared. His expression lay somewhere between uncertainty and resolution.

  ‘Ah, you’re back. Anything of importance to tell me? Not the monkeys making a nuisance of themselves at the bazaar again? How many times do we have to remind the stallholders that we are policemen not animal tamers? Tell them to give some boys stout sticks and put them on watch ready to chase the monkeys away.’

  He saw the sergeant’s chest expand as he took a deep breath. ‘Not the monkeys, sir. Something more serious than that.’

  De Silva waited.

  ‘I have been speaking with a lady there—’

  De Silva couldn’t resist tweaking his tail. ‘This would be a young lady?’

  Prasanna flushed. ‘Yes, sir, but there is nothing improper.’

  ‘Of course not. Please go on.’

  ‘Her name is Kuveni and she is in great difficulties.’

  De Silva nodded. ‘Go on.’

  ‘She and her family have been forced to leave their village and come to Nuala to find work.’

  ‘Forced?’

  Yes, sir, the headman of the village made their lives impossible to bear. He turned the other villagers against them and even accused Kuveni’s father of stealing, which was not true.’

  ‘Why did he want to harm them?’

  ‘The headman is a bad man, but no one in the village will stand up to him. They are afraid of him and he has convinced them that if they cross him, evil spirits will attack them.’ Prasanna’s frown deepened to a scowl. ‘He wanted to marry Kuveni but she did not like him and her father wouldn’t order her to do so.’

  ‘What else does this man do?’

  ‘He makes many promises then breaks them. Kuveni believes that when government licences are needed for anything, he also lies about the cost and makes the villagers pay too much, keeping the rest for himself.’

  De Silva picked up the pen on his desk and rotated it between the thumb and fingers of one hand. ‘You say this girl has a family? Who is there apart from her father?’

  ‘She has a brother, sir.’

  ‘Can’t the brother and father get together and persuade at least some of the villagers to stand up to this headman?’

  Prasanna shook his head hopelessly. ‘The father has been so troubled by the situation that he is ill and cannot work, let alone fight for his family.’

  De Silva sighed. Corruption was a problem in the villages. The government agents and their assistants were responsible for rooting it out, but many of the jungle villages were very remote. What went on in them wasn’t readily ascertained and unscrupulous headmen took advantage of the fact.

  ‘If Kuveni’s brother goes back to the village while the headman is in charge, she is afraid of what will happen to him. Her father needs to be looked after and she doesn’t want to be left to manage all alone.’

  ‘That’s understandable. Has she asked for our help?’

  ‘She has, sir, but I am not sure what to do for the best. If I go to the village and see the headman, he may deny everything.’

  De Silva stopped turning the pen and tapped his chin with it. ‘You’re right up to a point. The headman will probably swear he’s doing nothing wrong, but a visit might encourage him to be a little more honest. However, that will be of no help to your friend. How are she and her brother making ends meet at the moment?’

  ‘Kuveni works for one of the sari makers in the bazaar. She has very nimble fingers and has learnt to sew and embroider to a good standard already. Her brother, his name is Vijay, used to help their father hunting and growing millet. Now he works in the bazaar delivering vegetables for some of the stallholders.’

  ‘So, as we agree that a visit to the headman won’t automatically solve your friend’s problem, we must approach it another way. The assistant government agent is up at Horton Plains at the moment leading a hunting party, but when he comes back to Nuala, I will speak to him. He may be able to assist us. There will be records of the licences this headman has applied for and they may help us to uncover his bad practices. If there has been no official inspection of the village for a while, Mr Clutterbuck may see fit to arrange one. It might frighten the headman into mending his ways.’

  Prasanna looked doubtful. ‘Kuveni says he is a ruthless man, sir. I am not sure he will be easy to frighten.’

  ‘We shall see.’

  De Silva picked up the pen again and made a few notes on the pad of paper in front of him. When he had finished, he replaced the cap and looked up at Prasanna with searching eyes. ‘You’re sure this friend of yours is telling you the truth? The assistant government agent will be angry if we raise the alarm for no reason.’

  Prasanna’s brow furrowed. ‘I’m sure, sir.’

  ‘Very well, leave it with me. You may tell your friend that I’ll speak to Mr Clutterbuck and we’ll go on from there.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Now, put this out of your mind for the moment and go and do your work.’

  After the door closed behind Prasanna, de Silva glanced at the clock on the wall. It would probably be best to telephone the Residence after lunch now, to find out when they expected Archie Clutterbuck back from Horton Plains.

  He stood up, went to the window and watched the bustle of activity in the street. The inhabitants of Nuala were going about their business – working in offices; buying and selling goods; visiting their families and friends and enjoying all kinds of entertainments. Whenever his work took him to one of the villages, the contrast always gave him the feeling that a time machine had transported him back fifty years.

  The contrast wasn’t only in the quieter pace of life. As was general in Ceylon, people in Nuala believed in astrology. They didn’t like to take important decisions until they had consulted an astrologer to ascertain which day would be the most propitious for their plans. But in the villages, belief in otherworldly powers went far beyond that. Dark superstitions and the fear of arousing the malice of the spirit world were powerful methods of control for an unscrupulous headman.

  He returned to his desk and spent a few more minutes on his papers until the telephone interrupted him. He picked up the receiver; it was a call from one of Clutterbuck’s staff at the Residence.

  ‘Inspector de Silva here.’

  ‘Thank goodness I’ve caught you, Inspector. I was afraid you would have left for lunch. Mr Clutterbuck needs to see you immediately.’

  The urgency of the man’s tone left de Silva puzzled. Clutterbuck must be back earlier than he had anticipated and this was an unusually peremptory summons. ‘Then please tell him I will be with him very soon.’

  ‘He’s not at the Residence, Inspector.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘He’s still at Horton Plains. He’s sending some of his shikari trackers to meet you at the start of the road up there.’

  De Silva was very puzzled now. ‘I’ll set off shortly, but may I ask what this is about?’

  ‘There’s been an accident.’

  ‘A serious one I take it?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. Mrs Wynne-Talbot fell from the precipice early this morning. Her body hadn’t been found when Mr Clutterbuck sent the message, but we must assume she’s dead.’

  Chapter 5

  The trackers waite
d for him at the place where the road to Horton Plains became so steep that de Silva was heartily relieved to be able to spare the Morris’s protesting engine any further torment. Mounted on stocky ponies, they had brought a spare one for de Silva. He hauled himself into the saddle and they set off up the narrow road.

  It wasn’t long before he wished he had a better head for heights. As the road snaked up through low, scrubby forest in a series of alarmingly tight hairpin bends, he averted his eyes from the sheer drop a few yards from the line of ambling ponies. Once, a monkey leapt from a nearby bush and gibbering furiously, scampered across their path. De Silva’s pony shied and the reins slipped through his sweating palms. He quickly gathered them again and the animal settled but his heart beat faster for several minutes.

  Eventually, they left the forest behind and reached the vast, grassy expanse of the Plains. Released from anxiety, de Silva once more focused his mind on his destination. World’s End was the most famous spot at Horton Plains: a precipice where the ground dropped away for almost four thousand feet to the jungle below. The view, when it was not shrouded in mist, was legendary. But World’s End was a dangerous place for the unwary. One false step was all that was needed for a person to plunge to their death and it was known that several had, including, apparently, the hapless Mrs Wynne-Talbot.

  He frowned. Surely Clutterbuck and William Petrie would have warned their guests to be on their guard? The view was magnificent but it could be enjoyed from a few paces back if there was any danger of losing one’s balance. On his own visits, he had always stopped a few feet short of the drop.

  His questioning of his guides had produced very little extra information. All they had to tell him was that the accident had occurred around dawn. Helen Wynne-Talbot had been seen standing at the edge of the plateau, then she had fallen. His mind went back to the argument between the Wynne-Talbots at the racecourse. Had Helen Wynne-Talbot fallen accidentally or had she jumped, distraught after a fresh quarrel? It was a tragic explanation that he couldn’t dismiss out of hand, but he would have to tread carefully. The poor lady’s husband was bound to be very distressed. He must be careful not to step on the Petries’ toes, too. According to Florence Clutterbuck, Lady Caroline was very fond of her nephew, even though it wasn’t clear that they had known each other long.