Too Many Cooks

by Marina Pascoe

‘It’s a bit early, but … well, go on, I’ll have a bit of your sandwich.’

  ‘Take it all, sir.’

  ‘No. Half will do – thank you, Boase.’

  Bartlett took the sandwich and sat behind his desk to eat it. He suddenly held the sandwich aloft.

  ‘We can’t sit here eating while this man’s still at large. Get Sheila Parsons. She might know the sort of places he’d go to.’

  Boase left the room to fetch the girl from downstairs. Five minutes later, he returned.

  ‘Sir, sir. She’s gone.’

  Bartlett turned to look at his assistant.

  ‘Gone?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I just checked with Coad. He said that Greet was in at about seven this morning and heard what had happened earlier. Apparently he told everyone that he was glad to see the end of this case and now that Sheila Parsons wasn’t in danger, she could go.’

  ‘He had absolutely no right to do that. She’s still implicated in all of this and she has to take her punishment. And besides that, she could now be in terrible danger if we don’t find that man.’

  Bartlett rose from his chair.

  ‘I’m going up – Greet needs to be told. He’s forever meddling in my cases and I’ve had enough.’

  ‘Sir, Coad says he was only here for twenty minutes – he’s had to go to court in Truro. He won’t be back until tomorrow.’

  Bartlett sat back down and fiddled with a pencil.

  ‘Did Coad say where she’s gone?’

  No. I suppose she’ll try to find Jim Penfold? We could ask him. He’ll be leaving the hospital later this morning.’

  ‘That’s an idea. We’ll do that, Boase.’

  At eleven o’clock, Bartlett and Boase made their way up to the hospital at Killigrew. They were very aware that a huge manhunt was now underway to find Bull. Messages had been sent around the county with a description and orders to approach him cautiously. The pair had other things on their mind now – making sure that Sheila was safe. The nurse at the hospital showed them in to Jim Penfold’s ward. He was just waiting to see the doctor and was spending the time talking to Angela and Stephen. Bartlett was pleased to see the little family reunited again.

  ‘Good morning, Jim. How nice to see you up and about.’

  ‘Hello, Inspector Bartlett, Constable Boase. I’ll be glad to be out of here, I can tell you. They’re all lovely but I’m ready to get out and about again now. I’ve got somewhere nice to stay – my cousin, Edna is taking us all in until the house is repaired. She’s got a place up in Penryn. It’s far too big for her and she’d be glad of the company. Anyway, what brings you here?’

  ‘Well, I’m very pleased to hear that things are working out for you, Jim. We have got a problem though. We need to find Sheila. Have you seen her this morning?’

  ‘No. I thought she was at the station with you? Is everything all right?’

  ‘I can’t give you details but, no, she’s not with us and we really need to find her. She was released this morning – apparently, and I just thought she’d come straight here.’

  ‘Is she in danger, Inspector?’

  ‘Well, if I’m honest, she could be.’

  ‘Anything I can do?’

  ‘Just get better – and let us know immediately if you hear from her.’

  ‘You’ve got me worried too now.’

  ‘Let us do the worrying – and get well. See you again, Jim. Bye kids.’

  Bartlett and Boase walked back down Killigrew Street. In their office, Bartlett looked at Boase.

  ‘Where is she? Greet just let her walk out of here and she could be anywhere. She’s still a criminal – what on earth does he think he’s playing at?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir, but I feel awful at making such a stupid mistake.’

  ‘Well, maybe – but it was dark and you were under pressure. Don’t worry – just think how we can get round all this.’

  Boase was grateful for Bartlett’s understanding – he didn’t think he would be so tolerant in the same position.

  ‘What it does mean is that we’ll have to let Romanov out. He hasn’t killed anyone, so it seems.’

  ‘Yes. But shall I tell him to stay in Falmouth, sir?’

  ‘Yes – you should. At least until this is cleared up. I must confess, that was a nifty bit of work on his part – but don’t tell him I said so.’

  Bartlett walked back home later than usual, despite his previous late night. He thought as he made his way along. Romanov was out. Sheila had disappeared. Bull was nowhere to be found and could be plotting … well, who knows what, at this very minute? Irene saw him come through the gate and ran to open the front door. She hugged him.

  ‘Hello, Dad. You look exhausted. I’ve just made a pot of tea.’

  ‘Well, thanks, Irene, but if you don’t mind, I fancy a glass of my beer.’

  ‘All right, Dad. I’ll get it for you. Mum’s in the parlour. She’s feeling so much better. Topper’s keeping her company.’

  Irene took Bartlett’s coat from him. He went into the parlour. Caroline was sitting in her armchair with Topper at her feet. The dog, on seeing his beloved master, rose and walked over to greet him with a lick on the hand.

  ‘All right, Topper – you been looking after your mother? You’re such a good boy. Hello, princess. Irene says you’re feeling better?’

  ‘Hello, dear. Yes, I am. I really think those new pills are working for me.’

  Bartlett pulled a small chair across and sat next to his wife. He took her hand in his.

  ‘No one is more pleased than me to hear that, princess. Irene is just getting me a drink.’

  Bartlett yawned long and hard.

  ‘George, you’re exhausted. Why don’t you go and have a lie down. You’ve barely had any sleep.’

  ‘I’m not going to bed at eight o’clock. Anyway, I’m feeling rather hungry – I must be turning into Boase.’

  ‘I’ll ask Irene to get you some supper. We’ve already eaten – we didn’t know what time you’d be back – I hope you don’t mind?’

  ‘Of course not. Any leftovers?’

  At that moment, Irene came in with a bottle of Leonard’s and a glass.

  ‘Now, that’s what I really need. Thank you, Irene. Anything to eat?’

  ‘Course, Dad. Hot or cold?’

  ‘I don’t mind – anything.’

  ‘There are some cold potatoes – the ones you grew – ham, cheese, pickle. Or I can cook you something hot, if you prefer?’

  ‘No – cold is fine. Any of those lovely bread rolls you made?’

  ‘Yes. Shall I bring it all in here on a tray so you can sit with Mum?’

  ‘Yes please – that’d be lovely.’

  Bartlett could never think of anything nicer than sitting with his lovely wife.

  In Melvill Road, Boase had just returned home. Mrs Curgenven had gone to visit a friend but had kindly left a cold supper. Boase demolished it in less than ten minutes and went back to the pantry to hunt out anything else that he might have missed. His landlady was so good to him – he had the run of the place and was very well fed. What more could he ask for? As he rummaged in the cupboards he wondered what could have happened to make this case go on for so long – he blamed himself and he knew Bartlett did too … he was just being charitable. He thought about what he could do to make this right while he extracted two sticky boiled sweets from deep in his jacket pocket. Well, maybe the first thing would be to get some sleep. He couldn’t think straight while he was so tired. And so it was that, at ten past nine, Archie Boase went up to his room and fell asleep, fully clothed, on his bed.

  Three days had passed since Bull had disappeared. The desk sergeant stopped Bartlett on his way to his office.

  ‘Sir, I have a message here from Jim Penfold. He says would it be possible for you or Constable Boase to pay him a visit – maybe later on today, He would come down himself only the doctor has told him he’s to stay in for at least another week.’

  ‘Well, I’m
quite busy, I’ll ask Boase to go along and see him later. What’s his address?’

  ‘I’ve written it down, sir. Here you are.’

  Boase was already at his desk drinking some tea. He looked up as Bartlett entered.

  ‘Morning,sir. Cuppa?

  ‘I wouldn’t say no – thank you, Boase. Any news?’

  ‘No, sir. Nothing.’

  ‘Would you go along to Penryn this afternoon – Jim Penfold wants to see you. I can’t go, I’ve been summoned to see Greet. He’s really going to haul me over the coals, I know it. Here’s the address – it’s up on the Helston Road.’

  ‘Right you are, sir. I’ll go up at about six this evening – will that be OK?’

  ‘I’m sure it will – but that’s in your own time?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I know but I’ve got such a lot to do today.’

  ‘Fair enough. What are we doing this morning?’

  ‘Well, we’ve got to talk to Romanov and try to sort that mess out. Find Sheila Parsons I suppose – easier said than done.’

  ‘Right, get someone to ask Romanov to come in – he’s still at the Falmouth Hotel. I’ll be seeing Greet at three o’clock so that gives us a bit of time to see if we can find out anything about the girl.’

  At a few minutes after six o’clock, Boase was knocking at the door of a rather smart house on the Helston Road in Penryn. It was opened by Stephen Penfold.

  ‘Hello, Stephen. How are you now? Got over your adventure? I’m here to see your Dad.’

  The boy showed Boase into the large parlour which looked out over a lawn with a pond in the centre. Jim Penfold was sitting in the window. He stood up when Boase entered the room.

  ‘Don’t get up, Jim. Please sit down.’

  ‘You too then, Constable Boase. Stephen, go outside with Angela – see if you can find any fish.’

  The boy ran outside to find his sister and immediately a large slap was heard followed by crying.

  ‘I don’t think they two will ever get on, you know.’

  Jim banged hard on the window pane and the howling stopped.

  ‘What did you want to see me about, Jim?’

  ‘It’s Sheila. I bin worried ever since you said she wasn’t with you no more. I ʼaven’t seen her.’

  ‘I thought you would be the first person she would come to.’

  ‘So did I. She knows where I am – Edna left a message at your station. I ʼope she got it.’

  ‘She did – I gave it to her myself.’

  ‘So, where can she be?’

  ‘Can I talk to Stephen?’

  ‘Yes. Of course. Stephen. Stephen – come back in. Constable Boase wants to talk to you.’

  The boy came running in from the garden.

  ‘Stephen, you remember when Inspector Bartlett was asking you about where you had been? Well, we couldn’t find anywhere like that and I would really like to find the place where you had that little adventure. There’s that horrible man and I really want to find him. Do you think you would be able to help me?’

  Stephen nodded.

  ‘Will that be all right, Jim?’

  ‘Of course – I know Stephen will be safe with you. What are you thinking about?’

  ‘I’m not exactly sure – but if I could take Stephen with me, it would be a help. I’ll bring him back before it gets too late.’

  ‘That’s no problem. If you think it might help Sheila then go you ahead.’

  ‘Thanks, Jim. Do you have a telephone here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’d like to call the station just to tell Inspector Bartlett where I’m going.’

  Boase established that Bartlett was still with Greet and left a message asking him to meet up before he went home.

  Boase strolled back down through Penryn with Stephen and headed for the river. The boy chatted all the while.

  ‘I like Sheila. Me dad likes ʼer, too.’

  ‘I know he does. I’d like to know where she is. I’ve asked lots of people and no one has seen her.’

  ‘’As she gone to London? I’ve never been to London. She told me it was really big.’

  ‘Well, I’ve been to London once – it’s very, very big. If she’s gone there we’ll never find her.’

  The pair reached the river and Boase sat on the wall and waited. He hoped Bartlett would have the message by now and soon be on his way. Hopefully he’d be glad of an excuse to terminate the meeting with the Superintendent. He didn’t have long to wait. A car driven by Penhaligon drew up alongside Boase and Stephen and both Bartlett and driver alighted.

  ‘What’s all this about, Boase? Hello, Stephen. You all right?’

  ‘I’ve been to see Jim and he’s really worried about Sheila. He thought she would have contacted him by now but he hasn’t heard from her. I’ve been asking around for days and absolutely no one has seen her. She’s so distinctive with that red hair and peculiar clothing.’

  ‘So, why are we here?’

  ‘Well, I’m wondering if Bull’s got her.’

  ‘Yes … but why are we here?’

  ‘Because, if you remember, Stephen said that Bull had kept him around here somewhere. That’s why I’ve brought him.

  Stephen was standing in the mud throwing stones into the river.

  ‘But it might not be safe if Bull’s here.’

  ‘I know, but Jim was happy to let me bring him – if it meant possibly finding Sheila. I said I’d return him safely before too long.’

  ‘I suppose it’s worth a try. It’s your idea but we do this my way.’

  ‘All right, sir.’

  ‘Get Penhaligon to go back to the station and fetch a couple of men back here for assistance – just in case we find Bull. Tell him he can take Stephen for a ride in the car.’

  Boase did as he was instructed and then stood with Bartlett awaiting Penhaligon’s return.

  Bartlett his pipe and wandered up and down alongside the river looking at the boats which were moored there. Boase sat on the wall enjoying the evening sunshine and hoping for an end to all of this soon. What would Irene think if she knew how he’d messed up? How useless he was? He took a small bar of chocolate from his pocket and offered half to Bartlett.

  ‘No thanks, Boase. I’ll ruin my supper – if I ever get home, that is. What can be keeping Penhaligon?’

  ‘Maybe he’s having trouble getting someone to come over, sir.’

  ‘What are you hoping to achieve here, Boase?’

  ‘I’m not sure, sir. But you know when you just feel something? I’m hoping that Stephen will show us where he was held. If Sheila’s not there we might have a chance of catching Bull. We haven’t seen him around – no one has. If he hasn’t left the county, what better place than where he held Stephen?’

  ‘Let’s hope you’re right. I really want to wipe that sneer off Greet’s face. He gave me a right pasting today, Boase. He wasn’t holding back. I was just about at the end of my patience when you telephoned.’

  ‘I guessed that would be the case, sir.’

  ‘I can tell you, it’s a good job I’ll be finishing soon. Not before time.’

  ‘You’re not going anywhere yet, sir. Are you?’

  ‘I’m seriously considering it, my boy. All the trouble we go through – it’s all right for you, you’re just a youngster. Me? Well, I’ve been doing this for years and, if I’m honest, I’m worn out. This latest bout of Caroline being ill again – she really had me worried, and no error. No, I think the time is coming when we want to spend a bit more time together. She’s had years of worrying about me – especially working up in London. No, it’s not good for either of us.’

  ‘But – but what about me?’

  ‘Well, you’ll do all right. They’ll find someone to put you with. You’ll have your own assistant before you know it – and a promotion and pay rise.’

  ‘I suppose so. But don’t go just yet.’

  Bartlett grinned

  ‘We’ll see. Well! Look over there. That’s Pasty Nine Li
ves. I don’t believe it.’

  ‘Who?’

  Boase looked across and saw an old man in a red jersey and a peaked cap sitting in a small rowing boat on the shore.

  Bartlett wandered over to him and Boase followed behind, curious.

  ‘Pasty – how good to see you. I haven’t seen you for years. How are you?’

  ‘That you, Mr Bartlett, sir?’

  ‘Yes, it’s me, Pasty.’

  ‘I thought I recognised the upcountry accent – sort of foreign.’

  Bartlett shook the hand which was extended in his direction.

  ‘How are you keeping, Pasty?’

  ‘Well, I can’t complain, Mr Bartlett – no one listens.’

  Bartlett chuckled.

  ‘You’re looking well.’

  ‘I’m not bad – me eyesight is very poor though. I can’t see much these days – just as well I know me way around.’

  ‘There’s no one knows this stretch of the river like you, Pasty. How long have you worked here?’

  ‘Gettin’ on for seventy years, Mr Bartlett. Me father used to bring me ʼere when I was no more than three year old. I started workin’ with ʼim from the age of thirteen. I always knew I wanted to work on the river. I love it round ʼere. All these little creeks and nooks. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. I ʼope I die ʼere.’

  ‘Well, not just yet, eh?.’

  ‘Well, I’m nearly eighty-two. It’s bin a nice life, really. Bit ʼard sometimes but I wouldn’t ʼave ʼad it any other way. Mind, I don’t see much but I understand things.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  Bartlett sat down next to the old man. ‘What do you mean, Pasty – you understand things?’

  ‘Ha! People think that I’m just an old fool, an’ I let ʼem think it. But I know. There’s always something ʼappening on the river, Mr Bartlett. Thievin’, courtin’, fightin’ – I’ve even seen a man killed ʼere when I was younger. Yes, it all ʼappens on my little river. Only a couple of days ago I thought a young woman was goin’ to be killed – right ʼere. Right where we’re sittin’ now, Mr Bartlett.’

  ‘Whatever do you mean?’

  ‘I see things. Not clearly, but at my age you get to know enough to know what’s what.’

  ‘What did you see, Pasty?’

  ‘A courtin’ couple. They was standin’ ere – I’d just gone over there, in the ʼedge for a minute, you know. When I was on me way back they was really arguin’. She was teasy as an adder – I think ʼe was tryin’ to ʼave ʼis way with ʼer, there’s plenty of that goes on round ʼere, and she wasn’t interested, or changed ʼer mind. Well, she was cryin’ and ʼe was sort of draggin’ ʼer. I called out – I thought ʼe must be ʼurting’ ʼer something’ terrible. Me legs is bad an’ by the time I got ʼere, they was gone.’