by Vera Morris
Frank frowned. ‘No. We might miss him if he goes out on one of his walks.’ He turned to Stuart. ‘Revie might be out looking for Hinney. When you contact him, tell him where we’re going and ask him to get the Ordnance squad. Then phone Dorothy and make sure she’s all right.’
Stuart, his face serious and taut, nodded. ‘I’ll drive over to Dorothy as soon as I’ve done that.’
‘Good idea.’ Frank said.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Mabel said. ‘I’m not staying here by myself, worrying about all of you.’
Frank grabbed her arm. ‘Come on, Laurel. Let’s go.’ They rushed to the Avenger, she threw the bag on the back seat, and before she could close her door, the ignition fired, the car’s lights came on, Frank slammed the car into first gear and they accelerated out of the drive of Greyfriars House. There would be skid marks.
‘Which way are you going?’ she asked, as they tore down the narrow road to Westleton.
‘I’ll make for the A12, then go to Snape and through Tunstall Forest.’ He changed down gears as he came to the turning for Westleton village.
‘OK.’ She gripped the door handle and steeled herself. Frank turned right in front of Scarletts garage and drove like a mad man down the narrow road to the A12. She admired his skill; using the width of the road he slid the car round bends, changing gears to slow down for possible oncoming traffic. Thankfully there wasn’t much of that. After a few hair-raising minutes, adrenalin kicked in and her body became one with the car as she swayed into bends, her right foot wanting to press down on an accelerator.
Frank shot her a quick glance. ‘This is almost as good as when Stuart and I raced along the beach to rescue you from the evil Nicholson.’
She snorted. ‘You were a bit late... as usual.’
They reached the A12 and Frank put his foot down, the needle on the speedo jumping upwards.
‘You know where Coltman lives?’
‘Yes. How should we tackle this? He probably despises me -he must know it was me who told Revie about the scalpels. What if he won’t help us?’
Frank’s knuckles showed white as he gripped the wheel, swerving round a red Mini. ‘I really don’t know. We need to get on the Ness; it could be hours before Revie and the squad arrive. It’s Saturday night, can’t see that they’re sitting at home waiting for an emergency.’
She gnawed at her lip. ‘I’ll be straight with Coltman. Tell him I was the one who told the police. Apologise. Then I’ll plead with him to help us. I’m sure if we explain Stephen Salter’s life is in danger, and possibly Sam’s, he’ll forgive me and help us. After all Sam gave him a job; not many people would have risked employing such an eccentric man.’
‘Sounds good; you can charm anyone if you put your mind to it.’
‘Even you?’
‘Especially me.’
That was good to hear. ‘Are we going to tell him about Hinney?’
He slowed the car as they drove through Snape village. ‘Damn!’ Traffic was turning out of the Maltings; it must be the end of a concert. He slowed to a crawl. ‘Difficult one. What will he think when he knows Hinney is really Gareth Hovell, the brother of the man who murdered his wife and child?’
She looked at him, his green eyes staring at the road, face pale and tense, a muscle twitching at the corner of his mouth as he pulled on the steering wheel, accelerating as he turned the car towards Tunstall Forest and Orford. ‘I don’t think we should tell him, Frank. If he does help us we need him to be calm; if we mention the murder of his wife and child he may go to pieces. He’s a bundle of nerves at the best of times.’
He overtook a blue VW campervan. ‘Always fancied one of those.’
‘Frank, you haven’t answered me.’
‘Sorry, concentrating on getting to Coltman in one piece. I’m not sure, let’s play that one by ear.’
She was silent until they roared through Sudboume village. ‘There must be a connection between Hinney or Hovell, his brother hanged for murder and Thomas Coltman, the husband and father of the victims. But what has Stephen Salter and Sam Salter got to do with it? What’s the connection there?’
Frank frowned. ‘I don’t know. There must be a link between the missing girls and the murders of Bert Wiles and Belinda Tweedie. I can see Hovell’s connection with Wiles. Wiles knew the landscape round Orford intimately from his poaching, and that probably includes Orford Ness. Perhaps Hovell deliberately became friendly with Wiles and gained knowledge from him, especially of the Ness and the areas that were safe, those cleared of bombs.’ Realization dawned. ‘Yes, I’m sure you’re right. Bert Wiles became worried as he suspected Hovell was doing something on the Ness, something so dangerous, or wrong, he became frightened and tried to talk to Jim Lovell.’
Frank banged his hand on the steering wheel. ‘Then blabber-mouth Lovell told everyone at the staff meeting about Bert being nervous and worried about something.’ ‘So Hovell killed him. But why torture him?’ Bile rose to her mouth as she remembered Bert suspended over the bed, his body ripped and torn, the gag in his mouth, silencing nothing. How he must have suffered. ‘We could do with some sort of weapons, Frank. Hovell is a maniac.’ ‘Sorry, haven’t got my cricket bat with me today.’ He slowed as they came into Orford, changing gear as they rounded the tight bend near the church, ‘But you’re right. Let’s see if Coltman’s got anything.’
She pulled at his sleeve. ‘Turn left here into Daphne Road.’
They passed Belinda Tweedie’s house. ‘Left here.’ He slowed the car to a crawl. ‘There’s his cottage. There’s a light on. Thank God, he’s in.’
Laurel went up the narrow path to the back of the house, Frank following her. ‘Let’s hope he opens the door.’
She knocked.
‘Bit harder, Laurel. He’ll think it’s a branch blown by the wind.’
She glared at him. ‘You do it, then.’
He leant across her and thumped on the door with his fist. The light went out.
‘He probably thinks we’re the police and he’s going to be arrested again,’ Laurel moaned.
Frank put his face close to the edge of the door. ‘Mr Coltman,’ he shouted, ‘it’s Frank Diamond, the gardener from the camp. I need your help. It’s urgent, please open the door.’
Someone was moving towards them, there was a thud as something hit the floor. The light didn’t come on. Had he fallen?
She took a deep breath, ‘Please, Mr Coltman. It’s Laurel Bowman, as well. The police aren’t here, it’s just the two of us. We know you didn’t have anything to do with the murders of Mr Wiles and Miss Tweedie. We need your help. Mr Salter and his son Stephen are in danger. We believe the murderer is Gareth Hinney. We need your help to find them,’ she shouted.
‘Not lost your teacher’s voice,’ Frank whispered.
She didn’t reply.
The light came on, a chain rattled, and a key turned. The door opened and a wild-haired Thomas Coltman stared at them.
‘What are you talking about? Mr Hinney is the murderer? I can’t believe it. You say Mr Salter and Stephen are in danger?’
Frank shepherded him back into the kitchen, where the solitary chair was on its side on the floor. He righted it. ‘Please sit down, Mr Coltman, we’ll try and explain. You’ll have to trust us. We need your help.’
Coltman looked at Laurel, his eyes sad and unsure.
She gulped. ‘Mr Coltman, I must apologise to you. When I came back for tea the day I met you in the graveyard, I opened that drawer.’ She pointed to it. ‘I saw the scalpels. I thought of Bert Wiles’ body and I was afraid it might have been you.’
His back straightened and his eyes widened. ‘Me? How could you think that? I wouldn’t murder anyone. I wouldn’t harm a dumb animal. I hate all killing. I saw too much of murder and torture during the war. My darling Audrey and John were murdered. Why would I want anyone to suffer as I’ve suffered?’
Laurel hung her head. The pain in his voice stabbed at her heart. ‘I’m truly sorry. C
an you forgive me?’ She looked up. He was looking at her; there was heart-breaking loneliness and suffering in his eyes. She tentatively reached out a hand. ‘Please help us to save them.’
He grasped her hand. ‘Of course I will. What do you want me to do?’
Frank leant over the table towards him and succinctly told him as much as they knew, but he didn’t tell him Hinney was the brother of Adrian Hovell, who had murdered his wife and child.
As the story progressed Coltman’s shoulders lost their hunched appearance, his eyes brightened as he became caught up in the narrative. He released Laurel’s hand. ‘It’s incredible. I know Hinney’s got a boat, a small motorboat. I know where he keeps it.’
‘Down by the quay?’ Frank asked.
‘Yes, and he took over one of the fisherman’s huts as well. I’m not sure what he uses it for.’
‘Should we go there first?’ Laurel asked Frank.
‘Yes.’
She turned to Coltman. ‘You also have a boat, Mr Coltman?’
He looked puzzled. ‘Yes.’
‘Is your boat big enough to take three people?’
He frowned. ‘At a push, I suppose. Why?’
‘We think Hinney may have taken Stephen to Orford Ness. Could you take us there?’
‘Why me?’
‘I believe you may know which parts of the Ness are safe. We think you may have landed there.’
Coltman hesitated, looking from one to the other.
‘Your shell boxes -we guessed you picked up the shells on the beaches of Orford Ness. Is that right?’ she asked.
He looked at them. ‘Why are a gardener and a Stripey coat involved in this affair? Shouldn’t you have told the police?’
Damn! They should have explained at the beginning. She glanced at Frank.
‘Mr Coltman, the police are being informed, someone is contacting Inspector Revie, who you know,’ Frank said. The name didn’t seem to inspire confidence.
Frank continued, ‘Frank Diamond and Laurel Bowman are our real names, but we’re private detectives, hired by Mr Salter to try and find out what happened to two women who went missing from the holiday camp.’
Coltman’s shoulders slumped, and his eyes dulled. He turned to Laurel. ‘You came back to have tea with me because you wanted to spy, didn’t you? That’s why you started snooping when I left this room. You opened the drawer on purpose.’
This was awful. He once more felt betrayed. What could she say to reassure him she was interested and cared for him as a person?
‘Mr Coltman, I can understand you being upset; you’ve every right to be, but you must put your own feelings aside. We need to try and save lives, and we need your help. Sam Salter may lose his son. You’ve lost your son; do you want him to suffer the same tragedy?’
He straightened his back. ‘No. I don’t want him to suffer as I’ve suffered. No one should lose a child.’
‘Will you help us?’ Frank asked, his voice strong and firm.
‘Yes. We’ll go to his hut first, but I think I know where he’s taken Stephen. I could be wrong, but I think we should look there first.’
Ripples of excitement played down her spine. ‘Where?’ ‘Over the past few years, when I’ve been on the Ness, I’ve sometimes seen a light, from a torch I think, and always in the same place. I’ve never investigated it, I was afraid to go there, so I can’t be sure.’
‘Where?’ demanded Frank.
‘In one of the... pagodas.’ As he whispered the word pagoda fear showed in his eyes, his body seemed to shrink as he reverted to the unstable man who had opened the door to them minutes ago.
Chapter 21
Frank drove them to Orford quay. He glanced at Coltman, who was in the front passenger seat; he seemed to have recovered from his terror at the thought of going to a pagoda, and before setting off he’d shown resourcefulness, thinking of things they might need. He’d led them to a garden shed and flashed torch-light over an array of tools. ‘Do you think any of these might be useful?’
‘Excellent!’
‘Help yourselves. I’ve got two more torches -it would be better if we each had one in case we get separated.’ Frank chose a crowbar and Laurel picked up a hand-scythe. Coltman shuddered.
The quay was deserted. The murders had cleared the streets, the locals preferring to be at home as daylight started to fade. Coltman walked to the left of the jetty, away from the river to a line of fisherman’s huts, some with blackboards advertising fresh fish and lobsters, others, trips to Shingle Street, or Havergate Island. Frank, armed with his crowbar and torch, followed Coltman, Laurel behind him.
Coltman pointed to the last in the line of huts. ‘That’s his,’ he whispered.
Laurel pointed to a padlock and put her ear to the door. ‘I can’t hear anything. He can’t be here.’
‘I think we should break in,’ Frank said. ‘There might be a clue as to where he is, or what he’s up to.’
Laurel nodded.
Coltman fixed the beam of his torch on the padlock.
Frank levered the crowbar between the hasp and padlock and applied as much force as he could. There was a splitting of wood as the hasp came away from the door frame. He pulled on the door until it gaped open, hanging lop-sided on its hinges.
Coltman moved the beam over the interior of the hut. Frank grabbed his arm. ‘Stop!’ The beam’s light was reflected from glass and metal.
‘What is it?’ Laurel asked, peering over Frank’s shoulder.
‘It’s a still,’ Coltman replied. ‘Whatever does he want with that? Has he been selling boot-leg spirits?’
Frank flicked on his torch and went into the shed. He stopped, looked down at the bench on which the still rested, and picked something up. He turned to them and thrust out his hand, palm open. On it were dried leaves.
‘This is how he makes the drug to knock out people.’ He rubbed the leaves and sniffed them. Laurel and Coltman did the same.
‘What are they?’ Coltman asked.
‘I think they’re dried mandrake or henbane leaves. He probably soaked them in alcohol and then distilled the mixture to get a liquor laced with the poisons. In some countries it was the method used for an anaesthetic before chloroform.’
‘I wonder if the missing women were drugged?’ Laurel asked.
‘It’s possible, look what nearly happened to Dorothy. I think Belinda Tweedie lured them to her house, offered them wine and then when they were unconscious—’
‘Hinney came and took them away,’ Laurel gasped.
‘Why? Why has he done such things? Why has he taken Stephen Salter? Is the man mad?’ Coltman asked.
An idea was beginning to ferment in Frank’s mind. Was it preposterous? No time to think it over. They needed to get to Orford Ness and find Stephen and Sam Salter. If they were on the Ness... If they weren’t he didn’t know where they would be. Already they could be too late.
‘Mr Coltman, we need to get to the Ness urgently. Where’s your boat?’
‘It’s in an inlet not far from here. Mr Diamond, come with me.’ He pulled on Frank’s sleeve. ‘Miss Bowman, make to the left of the quay, we’ll pick you up there.’
‘No fear, I’m coming with you. I think we’ll need all the man-power we can get. I’m not risking being left behind.’
Frank laughed.
‘I’m sure Mr Diamond and I can—’
‘Don’t waste your breath. She won’t be left behind; if we dumped her she’d swim across the river. And call us Frank and Laurel, please.’
‘You’re a brave woman. Laurel. Please call me Thomas. Or Tommy.’
‘Tommy, I think,’ she said.
‘Lead the way, Tommy,’ Frank said. If lives weren’t at risk he’d be enjoying the adventure.
Tommy led them over grass and scrub. He halted and pointed to the river. ‘Hinney’s boat isn’t there. That’s where he moors.’ They followed him, their clothing swishing against the grass and bushes, the sounds mixing with the swirling river a
s it washed against the banks.
Tommy shone his torch on a small rowing boat. ‘Just about room for all of us.’ He stepped into shallow water which lapped round his Wellingtons, and held out a hand to Laurel. Clutching the scythe and the plastic bag Mabel had given her, she stepped in, the boat rocking. ‘Move to the front. Laurel. I’ll take the oars, I’m used to rowing.’He helped Frank into the boat. ‘Sit next to Laurel, keep your weights evenly balanced.’ He moved to the stern and pushed the boat into deeper waters. He clambered in. ‘Not as young as I used to be,’ he said, his voice boyish and full of energy, but he winced as he sat down. This is bringing him back to life, Frank thought.
Tommy took the oars, put them in the rowlocks and with short, brisk strokes, avoiding the banks in the narrow inlet, propelled them forward into the River Ore. As soon as they entered the river the flow sent them downstream, and Tommy eased off rowing and used the oars to guide them to the middle of the river.
‘We’ll land south-west of the pagodas, on the edge of the Stoney Ditch, opposite Havergate Island. That part of the Ness is shingle. All the AWRE work, Atomic Weapons Research Establishment, was there. We’ll have to go carefully, there’s lots of debris and some unexploded ordnance, but if we keep to the roads we should be safe. We’ll land near a clump of trees and shrubs. They’ll give us some cover.’
Although there wasn’t much light, Frank could see that Laurel was smiling and Tommy had cast off his obsessive misery. The man who loved boats, rivers and the sea had reappeared. He had a purpose, a reason for living: to save a life, perhaps two lives. For his sake, as well as the Salters’, he hoped there would be a good ending. The three of them, although he wasn’t sure how much use Tommy would be in a fight, should be enough to overcome Hinney. But he’d killed at least two people, possibly four, and he enjoyed torturing and killing. A formidable opponent.
But he’d also killed someone, and not long ago. Could he kill again? If needed, he knew he was up to it, although it wasn’t something he looked forward to. The best scenario would be to disable Hinney and hand him over to the law for trial. Damn! They should have brought some rope.
