Manna from Hades

by Carola Dunn

  “Duty calls, I must go,” Megan said. She kissed Eleanor’s cheek. “I’ll ring tomorrow, Aunt Nell. ’Bye, Cam. ’Bye, Mr—Nick, and thanks.”

  How wonderful it would be, Eleanor thought, if they should take a fancy to each other, once the investigation was out of the way. They were perfectly suited to each other . . .

  Or perhaps not. An artist and a policewoman? Eleanor sighed. Perhaps not.

  In any case, courtship had changed since Eleanor’s youth and she wasn’t sure she knew how to recognise it nowadays.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Eleanor, Nick, and Camilla went out to the car park. The girl was eager now to see the dog. Nick pointed out the Incorruptible. “It’s not locked,” he said, and she hurried ahead.

  “Nick!” Eleanor teased, “not locked?”

  “It didn’t seem necessary under the windows of the police, with your guard dog inside.” He stuck his hand in his pocket and presented Eleanor with four five-pound notes.

  “What . . . ?”

  “A gift from CaRaDoC. Megan somehow talked the powers that hold the purse-strings into providing for their vital witness. She handed the dosh over to me because she was afraid you might spurn it. Here, you should be able to outfit the child from the Lon-Star shop, and take us all out for a bite right now before I take a bite out of a policeman. How about that chicken-in-a-basket place on the way out of town? It’s not too infra dig for you, is it?”

  “My dear Nick, when did you ever see me stand on my dignity?”

  “I bet you could if you tried,” he observed.

  They reached the car and he opened the passenger-side door for her. Camilla was already in the back, cuddling Teazle, who was licking her face.

  Climbing in, Eleanor said, “I’ve never quite understood why they can’t put the chicken on a plate like everyone else, but I’m hungry enough to eat it out of a bucket, as they do in America.”

  “Out of a bucket?” Nick bent down to peer at her. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I never tried it but I remember some sort of military man—a Major something?—who sells fried chicken by the bucket, all across the country.”

  “Extraordinary people, the Americans!” He closed the door and went round to the driver’s side.

  “Have you really been to America, Mrs Trewynn?” Camilla asked.

  “Yes, two or three times.”

  “Fab! To San Francisco?”

  “I’m afraid not. Just New York and Washington.”

  “Mrs Trewynn has worked all over the world, though she’s a Cornishwoman born and bred. Now, how do I get out of here? It’s too much work to pedal my bike over the moors, so I usually take the bus if I can’t get a lift. I haven’t a clue how the one-way system works.”

  “Left, I think, dear. Or is it right?”

  “Do you know, Cam?”

  “Sorry, I’ve never been here before.”

  “I thought there was more Somerset in your voice than Devon or Cornwall. Let’s try turning left, and if a minion of the law comes after us with a whistle, I’ll let you explain, Eleanor. Somerset?”

  “I come from near Taunton, but I’ve been living in Bristol. Only I don’t think Megan wants me to talk about that.”

  “All right,” said Nick, cheerfully buzzing the wrong way round the town centre, as Eleanor realised when she spotted a one-way arrow pointing in the opposite direction. Luckily central Launceston was not exactly a hotbed of activity on a Saturday evening, at least until the pubs let out. “Forget Bristol, we’ll talk about Taunton. Where the cider comes from.”

  “That’s right. The farm my dad works on has cider-apple orchards, but it has animals, too. That’s what I like best. I wanted to work on the farm like him, but Megan says . . .” She hesitated.

  “What does Megan say?” Eleanor asked.

  “You see, Mum and Dad want me to better myself, and I understand, honestly I do. They’ve worked so hard all their lives and all they’ve got to show for it is a tied cottage they could be turfed out of when Dad retires. I did quite well at school, and they want me to do A levels and go on to a secretarial course, or teacher training, or maybe . . . maybe even university. But I don’t want to be a secretary or a teacher, I want to work with animals.”

  “And Megan said?” Eleanor persisted.

  “She said if I’m clever enough and work hard enough, I could be a vet.”

  “Would you like to be a vet?” Nick asked, pulling into the last space in the parking area in front of the floodlit Chicken-in-a-Basket restaurant.

  “Oh yes!” Cam hugged Teazle so tight she squeaked. “But you have to take science, and there’s no A level science at my high school. They think science is for boys. Even if they’d take me back, which they prob’ly wouldn’t after I ran away.”

  “That is a problem, but problems are made to be overcome,” said Eleanor encouragingly. “We’ll think about it while we eat. I’ll just take Teazle along the verge for a few yards first.” They were on the outskirts of the town, beyond the reach of pavements and street lamps.

  “Let me! Please! Did you bring her lead? She shouldn’t go loose on the main road.” The lead was found on the floor at Eleanor’s feet. “If you give me the keys, I’ll put her back in and lock up, and you can go in and find a table.”

  Nick had handed the keys to Eleanor, who passed them on to Camilla. She and Teazle disappeared along the road.

  As they entered the crowded restaurant, Nick said thoughtfully, “Do you think that was wise?”

  “What?”

  “Giving Camilla the keys. We don’t actually know anything about her except that she ran away from home. Suppose she decides to flit again, taking the Incorruptible with her?”

  “Then we’ll have to walk back into town and ignominiously confess to Mr Scumble that we’ve lost his witness.”

  A hurrying waitress paused to say, “Sorry, love, there’ll be a bit of a wait for a table. Saturday’s our busy night. Shouldn’t be too long.”

  “That’s all right,” Nick assured her, and she scurried on.

  Eleanor continued their discussion. “But I don’t think Cam’s been lying to us. Do you?”

  “Not about running away from home and wanting to be a vet, no. The Exeter poly’s probably the answer to that.”

  “Poly?”

  “Polytechnic College. I know a chap who teaches art there. I’m sure they take A level students. She could live at home and take the bus in, if she’s willing to go home. But that’s assuming she’s not in league with jewel thieves and murderers.”

  “Not in league with, Nick. Under the influence of, perhaps, without realising what sort of people they are.”

  “Megan wasn’t too happy about Scumble not letting us know what’s going on.”

  “I can’t help feeling we could be more helpful if we had more information. But who can guess what goes on in the inspector’s mind?” Eleanor asked rhetorically.

  “Not I, for sure! The trouble is, as Camilla’s not allowed to mention whatever she’s witness to, you can’t test your infallible lie-o-meter on the subject.”

  “My what? Ah, here she comes. At least she was telling the truth about that.”

  Just as Camilla joined them, the waitress returned and showed them to a cramped table. Baskets of chicken and chips quickly arrived—as it was the only food item on the menu there was no time wasted over deliberations—along with fizzy orange for Camilla, coffee for Eleanor and Nick.

  Eleanor had no objection to eating with her fingers. She had done so in many parts of the world where only the rich owned cutlery. In many of the same parts of the world, only the rich ate chicken. She had never understood why in order for chicken to be affordable for the masses, it had to be deprived of all flavour, but it seemed to be a fact of life. The chicken in the basket was of the curious modern breed that tastes of cardboard, but the young people had no memories of pre-war chicken, so they were happy enough. At least it wasn’t too greasy and the chips were good. Eleanor was a g
lutton for chips on the rare occasions she indulged.

  The place was too noisy and closely packed for private conversation. Not until they returned to the car and an ecstatic Teazle—even more ecstatic when she discovered each of them had secreted a morsel of chicken for her—were they able to talk about Camilla’s affairs.

  A car in the dark was an excellent place for confidences, Eleanor thought, as the Incorruptible laboured up from the valley to the moors. Camilla sounded a bit weepy when she told them how much she missed her parents, in spite of their disagreement over her future. If she’d been face to face with Nick she might have been embarrassed, but to her, he and Eleanor were just dark silhouettes against the patch of road illuminated by the headlights. There was no sign of fog.

  “I’m pretty sure Mum and Dad would be happy if I went home,” Cam said. “And I did send them postcards, though I didn’t say where I was. All the same, it seems a bit thick just to waltz in and say, ‘Hello, I’m back.’ ”

  “Telephone first,” Nick suggested.

  “We’re not on the phone.”

  Eleanor liked the sound of that We. “You ought to write a letter,” she said, “but there won’t be time for them to get it and reply before I go away.”

  “You’re going away?” Camilla asked in alarm.

  “I have to leave on Tuesday, and it can’t be put off. Don’t worry, Megan will take care of you if we haven’t settled things by then. But I think it may be best if I drive you over to Taunton tomorrow so that I’m there to smooth the path if necessary.”

  “Would you really? That would be perfect!”

  Nick said, “Will your parents be pleased that you want to try for your A levels?”

  “Oh yes. Dad always wanted me to. If only there was a way!”

  “There may be. I know a bloke who teaches at the Exeter poly. I can find out from him what you need to do to get in to take A level courses in the sci—”

  That was the last he said. As they reached the top of the hill at Cold Northcutt, a blast of wind struck, howling like a hobgoblin. The little Morris veered and shook. Nick gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles gleamed white in the beams of occasional approaching headlights. Eleanor thanked heaven she wasn’t driving. She could never have kept the Incorruptible on the road. She kept quiet so as not to distract Nick. She thought she heard Teazle’s anxious whine, but if Camilla spoke, she couldn’t be heard.

  At the highest point of the journey, where the A395 met the A39, they turned southward and the wind hit them broadside instead of head on. The two and a half miles to Camelford were alarming. After that they started descending towards St Teath and soon the car stopped shuddering.

  “Whew!” said Camilla. “I thought we were going to be blown backwards all the way to Launceston.”

  “If Nick hadn’t offered to drive,” Eleanor told her, “we probably would have been.”

  By the time they reached Port Mabyn, Eleanor was feeling her age. Nick stopped outside LonStar.

  “I’ll take the car key off the ring and park the Incorruptible for you,” he said.

  “Thank you. With this gale blowing, you’d better go back up to the top car park.”

  Eleanor, Camilla, and Teazle got out. The wind whistled along the street, but the buildings afforded protection from the worst buffets. Inside felt cosy in comparison, especially after Eleanor lit the fire.

  Quite at ease with Camilla now, Eleanor treated her as a young family member, showed her where the clean sheets were, and left her to make up the bed in the spare room. She went downstairs to put on the kettle for hot water bottles and a pan of milk for cocoa. Before pulling down the blind, she peered out through the kitchen window to see if Nick was on his way.

  No sign of Nick, but she noticed a man coming down the other side of the street. He took shelter from the wind in the recessed doorway of a shop a short way up the hill. Dressed in a dark overcoat and hat, he merged into the darkness.

  Though she hadn’t seen his face, she couldn’t help thinking there was something familiar about him. Someone local, she assumed; no doubt he had come from the Trelawney Arms and stepped out of the wind to light a cigarette.

  She pulled down the blind and turned just in time to stop the milk boiling over. As she made the cocoa, Nick came in with the car key.

  “Did you see the rozzer lurking across the road?” he asked in a low voice.

  “A policeman? Bob Leacock?”

  “Now would I refer to Bob as a rozzer?”

  “No, but I thought I recognised something about him when I saw him walking down the hill.”

  “They all walk the same way. Legacy of years on the beat. Their car was just arriving at the car park when I walked out.”

  “Their?”

  “Two of them. The second will have gone round the back. I came down this side of the street, out of the worst of the wind, and that chap out there followed me down on the other side.”

  “What on earth are they doing here? I thought they’d stopped watching the shop. I wish we knew what’s going on!”

  “Presumably the Scumble’s protecting his witness—though I can’t imagine who could know she’s here—or more likely he’s afraid she’ll do a flit and leave him witnessless.” As he spoke, he strode across to the sitting-room window, parted the curtains, and looked out. “Too dark, I can’t spot him, but I bet he’s there.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake! I’ve given up trying to fathom the inspector’s mind.”

  “He’s so bloody close-mouthed, we really haven’t a clue what’s going on.”

  “I do wish he’d be a bit more forthcoming. But his men will catch pneumonia and I’ll have their deaths on my conscience. Go and tell them both to come and keep watch in the passage, will you? At least they’ll be out of the wind, and the rain which I’m sure is on the way. They can sit on the stairs.”

  “I’ll tell them on my way home,” said Nick, cheerfully callous. “Let them suffer a bit first.”

  Camilla came down. As they drank their cocoa, she started yawning. She offered to scrub out the milk pan, but Eleanor sent her up to bed. Nick didn’t stay long. Eleanor reminded him to invite the policemen in.

  “If you insist,” he said, yawning in his turn.

  Eleanor put on the kettle again to make coffee for the men while listening to the weather forecast on the wireless: heavy rain before midnight and gale force winds off the Atlantic. She was not going to be driving to Taunton tomorrow, she decided. She could only hope the winds would drop before she was supposed to take the helicopter to St Mary’s.

  When she took the coffee down, she found DCs Wilkes and Polmenna damp and very grateful. The rain had already started. She told them about the forecast.

  “Yeah,” said Wilkes gloomily, “we heard it as we followed you over. I just hope it doesn’t mean they won’t be relieving us in the morning.”

  Nick was right, Scumble was keeping an eye on his witness. Why? Was he afraid Cam might run away, as Nick had speculated? Or, far more alarming, did he suspect that the villains were after her?

  TWENTY-FIVE

  On Sunday morning, Megan arrived at the Launceston nick feeling like a drowned rat, and looking like one, too, to judge by the desk sergeant’s grin. Her oilskins had been little protection against torrents of rain blown sideways by boisterous gusts. She usually biked in from her bedsitter on Tavistock Road, but this morning she hadn’t dared. On the moor and over on the coast, the wind must be truly terrifying.

  “Lovely weather for ducks,” said the sergeant.

  “If they have any sense, they’re huddled in the rushes for fear of getting their feathers blown off.”

  He laughed. “Bit of a blow,” he conceded. “I’ll have a paraffin heater taken up to your room, love.”

  “Thanks.” She didn’t like the “love,” but he was old enough to be her father, so she let it pass. “Mr Scumble here yet?”

  “Came in a couple of hours ago. He’s been asking for you.”

  “What?
The bastard! He told me not to come in till noon and it’s only half eleven. He could have rung me at home.”

  “I wouldn’t remind him, if I was you. He’s like a bear with a sore head.”

  “When isn’t he?” Megan asked bitterly and hurried upstairs.

  The phone on her desk rang as she entered Scumble’s room. She grabbed it without sitting down, not wanting to drip all over her chair. “Pencarrow here.”

  “At last,” snarled the inspector not quite sotto voce from across the room.

  “I’ve got Scotland Yard on the line for you. DS Faraday.”

  “Just a moment. It’s the Yard, sir. D’you want to talk to him?”

  “The boy wonder, is it? You can handle him.”

  “Put him through, please.” She managed to escape her cape and sou’wester before Ken’s voice came on.

  “Megan? You haven’t blown away yet? Or washed away? They say the Southwest’s getting hit pretty hard.”

  “We’re used to it. Any news?”

  “Of a sort. Not much help. I’ve talked to most of the neighbours, and none of them saw Donaldson come home from the hospital or leave again—”

  “Hold on a mo. I never got the full story on your end of things, just what was in the papers, and you people were pretty cagey. We were too busy talking about this end. Give me a quick run-down.”

  “You know he was robbed at home? He doesn’t have a shop, as such, just offices in the City.”

  “Ah, that must complicate matters.”

  “We’d certainly move faster if the City force weren’t so touchy about its rights and privileges vis à vis the Met,” Ken said dryly. “It wouldn’t hurt, either, if our own Fraud boys would get off their lazy bums and do a stroke of work at the weekend. The insurance people, too. It’s impossible even to get hold of anyone in authority till tomorrow.”

  “Did he put in a claim already? From the hospital?”