Amanda Cadabra and The Hidden Depths

by Holly Bell

  ‘That’s not what I asked.’

  ‘It is all that I can tell you at this stage.’

  ‘Can or will?’

  Trelawney deftly dodged the bullet. ‘Mrs Loftleigh-Gibbs, are you aware of anyone at all who could have intended your daughter harm?’

  ‘Absolutely no-one at all. But someone clearly did, and I expect the police to find that someone and to do so without delay. Furthermore, as her mother, I expect to be kept informed.’

  ‘You certainly shall be, within the bounds of what can be revealed in the course of an on-going investigation.’

  ‘Don’t prevaricate, Inspector. I expect results and information.’

  ‘I assure you that we seek both.’

  She took an audible in-breath, pursed her lips and looked at him with glittering eyes.

  Here it comes, thought Trelawney.

  ‘You do know that my father is a personal friend of Chief Inspector Francis Maxwell.’

  ‘Thank you for informing me.’

  ‘Your boss will be hearing from my father. Perhaps, thereafter, you’ll be a little more ready to share.’

  There was no more to be had here. Trelawney rose, took out a card, and handed it to the lady.

  ‘Thank you for your time, Mrs Loftleigh-Gibbs. If you think of anything that could be relevant, please call me.’

  She did not reply. The PA appeared as if he’d been listening on the end of a speaking tube, and ushered the inspector into the fresh air. Trelawney returned to his car, drove a short distance then pulled over. He got out his phone.

  ‘Constable Nikolaides? … I’d like you to check something for me … Call the KOMA retreat in Thailand and get what confirmation you can of the date Veronica Loftleigh-Gibbs arrived there, and whether she left at any time, or could have left at any time during the period between her arrival date and her departure, the day before yesterday … No, that’s all … Thank you, Constable.’

  Chapter 22

  Consultation

  Trelawney pulled over once more, seeing the name on the screen with unthinking relief.

  ‘Miss Cadabra.’

  ‘Inspector?’

  ‘How can I help you?’

  ‘I’ve just remembered something Claire said. I don’t know if it might be relevant.’

  ‘It might. Actually, you’re the very person I would like to … consult. May I drop in?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Oh, I’m seeing Jonathan tomorrow at noon, by the way.’

  ‘Excellent.’

  ‘I’m home for lunch now. I’ll put the kettle on for your arrival.’

  ‘I’ll be about 40 minutes.’

  ‘I’ll be ready!’

  I can call it an interview as much as I like, Thomas reflected honestly. But I am consulting Miss Cadabra. I probably rely on her far too much. My father’s probably right. She is, however, a valuable resource, he concluded to comfort himself.

  And more comfort there was to be had. In the cosy cottage with the wood fire warding off the February chill, Miss Cadabra had a welcoming smile for him. Here came the tea tray, oven heated pasties for lunch and his favourite biscuits to follow, all partaken of in the embrace of the armchair near the hearth. Even the objectionable grey furry sleeping dragon of a cat on the sofa could not spoil the atmosphere.

  Registering facial expressions was not Amanda’s greatest gift. Still, she could not help but observe the inspector’s appreciative sip of his tea and the soft sigh as he relaxed back in his seat.

  ‘Have you been through the mill, Inspector?’ she asked kindly.

  ‘Rather. No worse than I’ve been before, mind you. Thank you for asking. But first, what was the recollection you had for me?’

  ‘Well, nothing much, really. It’s just that I was thinking about Samantha, and then her father and how, well … you remember back when there was all that business about the Centre?’

  ‘Vividly.’

  She laughed. ‘Well at the time, Claire said that maybe Samantha wasn’t really as she appeared to be. That maybe she’d never had the opportunity to discover what or who she really was. Claire said Sam had been caught between two wealthy, divorced parents bidding outrageous stakes for her affection. She’d been so indulged she never had to think for herself. And Claire was of the opinion that she was just imitating her similarly clueless friends. You can ask Claire. She knew Sam a bit.’

  ‘Ah, thank you.’

  ‘I also, at the time, overhead a conversation between Damian and his friends.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Well, I just had the impression that he was trying to say that Samantha hadn’t always been like that, I mean like she’d turned out. Isn’t it so often the case that children can appear quite happy and normal and then it all goes sort of pear-shaped when the parents fall out? After all, it does happen, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It does indeed, Miss Cadabra. I was most fortunate in the way my own parents dealt with it. I was well aware of how much better things were for all of us after they separated and divorced.’

  Amanda was surprised at how forthcoming he was being. But then he’d mentioned this before.

  ‘In other cases, though,’ she responded, ‘children are immensely troubled when things are unhappy at home and do go off the rails out of … oh all sort of things.’

  ‘True. Did you ever meet Samantha’s mother?’

  ‘No. I’m sorry.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be. I shouldn’t say so. But I’ve just come from her establishment,’ he admitted.

  ‘Inspector, I have to say I’m not surprised. Damian seems to have been as kind and loving a father as … he was allowed to be. Very busy, yes, but I do think he genuinely cared about his daughter. Was even at a loss as to how to help her. I don’t think Samantha was taking the lead as to her behaviour and attitude from him.’

  ‘From whom then, would be your guess?’

  ‘Her friends, Claire thought. Or I, suppose, her mother. But without having met her …’

  ‘Hm. Do you know any of Samantha’s friends?’

  ‘Only Pamela, who’s a sweetie, or seems to be. And Simon Lawley, who appears to be harmless enough. Certainly, neither of them behaved like Samantha. Whatever influence there was not coming from them, I would say.’

  ‘Hm’

  ‘Oh, wait! I completely forgot! Yes. But this must be off the record. Strictly off the record. This person refuses to go to the police and told me only on the understanding that she would not be involved. I need your word, Inspector.’

  ‘Very well, Miss Cadabra. A confidential informant of sorts.’

  ‘If you please.’

  ‘You have my word.’

  ‘In that case … someone who knew Samantha told me two things. One was that her parents had made Sam cut up her credit cards. They were paying her uni fees, living expenses and giving her an allowance. But it was still nothing like the funds she had had access to before. Sam wanted more money. She told … this lady that she had some sort of scheme in mind. It was to do with the “mid-life crisis brigade.” That’s what the lady said Sam called her father, Damian, and his friends.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Cadabra. That is very helpful.’ She waited while he wrote in his police notebook. Finally, Amanda asked tentatively,

  ‘May I ask — and I do understand if you can’t tell me, Inspector — what is the mother like?’

  ‘She reminded me of a crow,’ he replied frankly.

  ‘A raven?’ asked Amanda suddenly.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Harbinger of doom.’

  Trelawney looked up at that. They were evocative words.

  ‘The woman is certainly as tough as a beak,’ he commented. ‘There was guilt there, but for what I couldn’t say. Did Samantha ever mention her mother?’

  ‘No, not that I can recall.’

  ‘Do you know about her mother’s family at all?’

  ‘No, I’m sorry, Inspector. I’m sure Damian cou
ld tell you, though.’

  But Trelawney did not have to wait for his interview with Damian Gibbs to find out. In fact, he was still at Amanda’s, halfway through his second shortcake biscuit, when the text alert sounded on his mobile.

  Veronica L-G. Be careful there, Thomas. Get the inside track from the ladies at The Grange. Mike.

  Amanda never asked about his phone communications, but he offered,

  ‘From your Uncle Mike. Says I can get the goods on the Loftleighs from the Grange ladies.’

  Tempest, dining in the kitchen pricked up an ear. He had been half-listening, both amused and bemused by the humans’ laborious progress. It was like, he decided, watching a newborn hippo learning to walk.

  ‘Would you mind paving the way and taking me back there with you?’ asked Trelawney.

  Amanda’s face lit up. ‘Of course not. They’ll be delighted to see you. Let me just check that they’re both at home.’ She made a quick call. Then hung up.

  ‘Moffat says they “shall look forward to receiving the inspector”. ’

  He smiled. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘There’s no rush. Finish your biscuit. After all, Tempest is probably only halfway through his third course of lunch, and we couldn’t possibly go without him!’

  Chapter 23

  Dishing the Dirt

  The Loftleighs? Ha!’ was Miss Cynthia de Havillande’s opening reaction to Trelawney’s enquiry. She looked sideways and raised an eyebrow at her boon companion, Miss Armstrong-Witworth, seated beside her on the well-used burgundy velvet sofa. Gwendolen echoed her expression and nodded at the inspector.

  ‘Yes. Indeed.’

  They were occupying the small salon, leaving Amanda in peace to continue work, in the small dining-room, with the aid of magic. Knowing that this was police business, she tactfully and respectfully absented herself and left Trelawney with the ladies. He appreciated Miss Cadabra’s discretion, knowing, at the same time, that the Misses de Havillande and Armstrong-Witworth would relay the discussion in its entirety to her later.

  Trelawney leaned back with a feeling of anticipation. The ladies were clearly about to ‘dish the dirt’ and with a garnish of relish.

  ‘All posh and no dosh,’ stated Cynthia.

  ‘And not as posh as the de Havillandes either,’ added Gwendolen.

  ‘Or the Armstrong-Witworths, dear,’ her companion replied to her.

  ‘But the sort that likes to hold themselves up,’ continued Cynthia. ‘Haven’t had a bean for generations. Not since Veronica’s father Loftus’s great-great-grandfather lost the bulk of the family fortune in a game of Vingt-et-un at Watier’s,’ she explained, referring to a fashionable London gambling club of the Regency period. Miss de Havillande went on,

  ‘The Loftleighs managed to limp along on a mixture of luck, connections and credit. Finally, Loftus passed Spireworth House over to English Heritage and retreated to a private suite in the building. He always had hopes of getting it back, though. Went to the “right schools”, the “right Oxbridge college”, made sure he had the lowdown on the right people in positions of power. Never seen anyone milk the old boy network like Lofty.’

  ‘Yes, Inspector,’ agreed Gwendolen. ‘He always seems to charm himself into wherever he wants. I’ve never understood it myself. I always found him a very cold boy.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘His wife, now. She was a lovely woman.’

  ‘Veronica’s mother?’ asked Trelawney.

  ‘That’s right. What was her name now?’ Gwendolen looked out of the window for inspiration. ‘Barbara … Babby! Yes, that’s what she was called. Barbara Stanton-Westgate. Now they were a very good family. In every way. I’m afraid they were quite taken in by Loftus. He still had Spireworth at the time.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘She was quite right to divorce him even though it was a bit a scandal at the time. But she cut him far too many years of slack, in my opinion!’

  ‘In practically everyone’s,’ remarked Cynthia caustically.

  ‘I’m glad to say that she very happily remarried.’

  ‘And what became of the daughter — Veronica?’ asked Trelawney.

  ‘Well now, that was the curious thing. Veronica was at boarding school at her father’s insistence, and she chose to spend all the holidays with him. I think the pair of them believed they could claw back the Loftleighs’ former glory,’ Gwendolen adjudged.

  Cynthia took up the tale. ‘And when Veronica was of age, they hit upon a promising prospect.’

  ‘Damian Gibbs?’ Trelawney hazarded shrewdly.

  ‘Precisely. The Gibbs — while excellent people, I have no doubt — are of humble origins.’

  ‘But he was wealthy?’

  ‘And set for even greater success.’

  ‘I’m afraid Veronica charmed poor Mr Gibbs, just as Lofty charmed her poor mother,’ remarked Gwendolen.

  ‘And did he revive the Lofteighs’ fortunes?’ Trelawney enquired, looking from one lady to the other. It was Cynthia who answered.

  ‘Now Inspector, you should know that Gwendolen and I know very little personally of the younger generation, Veronica’s, that is, and we had never met Mr Gibbs until he came here to build the Centre.’

  ‘Understood.’

  ‘But we heard that he was generous to a fault toward Veronica. Nevertheless, he had sufficient good business sense to draw the line at bailing out her father.’

  ‘Wise.’

  ‘Indeed, Inspector. Our understanding is that she bided her time until after the wedding. When Samantha was on the way, then Veronica revived her campaign. Gibbs was adamant, however. That didn’t stop her from extracting every penny she could. Finally, the man, it seemed, could bear it no longer. It was clear that it was no love match on her part, and he ended the marriage. But he paid dearly for it.’

  ‘The Essex house?’

  ‘Just so, and as only a part of the divorce settlement. Plus, he was paying her an allowance until Samantha was to graduate.’

  ‘How will his ex-wife pay for the upkeep of her place now?’

  ‘Ah well, that’s the Other Matter,’ said Cynthia significantly. ‘Lofty has always had connections in the City, and here and there over the years has made such very, shall we say, fortunate investments that have saved him from ruin and feathered his daughter’s nest.’

  ‘Insider trading?’

  ‘Almost certainly, the word was. Never proved, of course. And Lofty was canny enough not to do it too often.’

  Trelawney sat and thought. Moffat brought in the tea tray with his own homemade scones.

  ‘What a treat!’ said the inspector. ‘It’s not that long since I had lunch. At this rate, I shan’t need dinner, but how can I resist? Thank you, Moffat.’

  ‘Not at all, sir.’

  Trelawney picked up the blue-and-white-patterned china plate at his elbow, split his scone, and slowly and thoughtfully applied butter, jam and cream.

  ‘Is it possible, ladies, that Samantha could have known about the insider trading? Could have possessed proof of what her mother and grandfather were involved in?’

  ‘I should imagine,’ responded Cynthia, ‘that Veronica and Lofty were careful, but my impression of Samantha is that she was the type to snoop. She may well have deeply resented her mother and grandfather, once she suspected their plans for her.’

  ‘Which were?’

  ‘Well, now, according to Ginny Howard —’

  ‘Lady Southgate, you know, Inspector,’ Gwendolen interpolated.

  ‘Indeed?’

  ‘An old friend, and a dear soul,’ explained Cynthia. ‘We still keep in touch. According to Ginny, Lofty and his Morticia of a daughter were grooming Samantha to be the next bait to catch the next rich fish with. However, much as the girl liked Daddy’s money, she resented being used.’

  ‘So why didn’t Samantha leave her mother and go and live with Damian?’

  ‘That was my qu
estion, Inspector, and so I asked Ginny, but she said she was afraid Veronica had demonized Samantha’s father too thoroughly for that.’

  ‘So, if she was in possession of incriminating evidence against her grandfather and mother, she may have felt desperate, or so alone that she turned to the wrong person for help?’ suggested Trelawney.

  ‘Entirely likely.’

  ‘Did you receive this information recently, may I ask, Miss de Havillande?’

  ‘Ginny and I had a chat on the telephone yesterday.’

  ‘And ... you didn’t feel inclined to convey this to me at once?’

  ‘Oh, we knew you’d find your way to us sooner or later, dear Inspector.’ explained Miss Armstrong-Witworth comfortably, with her gentle smile. ‘Do have another scone.’

  Chapter 24

  Jonathan’s Dream

  ‘You don’t think it constitutes a bribe, do you? As it’s Jonathan’s favourite?’ Amanda asked anxiously. In anyone else, the inspector would have suspected irony. But he knew that, when she posed such a question with so serious an expression, she was being absolutely guileless.

  ‘Well now, Miss Cadabra, do you, from time to time, choose to restock the library’s supply of lime flower teabags?’

  ‘I do, Inspector.’

  ‘Then I believe, we can leave your thoughtful contribution off the record.’ Her concerned conscientiousness both appealed to and amused him.

  Amanda was visibly relieved. Trelawney knew better than most that Miss Cadabra could spin, omit, misdirect and evade as well as the most skilled diplomat. However, when she did speak frankly, he could rely on her meaning exactly what she said. It was so rare a quality that it was something he especially l… liked about her.

  ‘Shall I report to you afterwards, Inspector?’ she was asking.

  ‘I’m afraid I have to be back in Cornwall for tomorrow,’ he replied. Trelawney was still well aware of the confidential informant who had offered to meet him at The Cosy Coast Café. Hopefully, he would learn news of the Flamgoynes appearing in Parhayle near the date of the cliff incident. ‘I’ll try to be back in the afternoon or the following day.’