‘It was when we were inside here that we noticed Johnny’s dog Caesar wasn’t with us. Then we heard this furious barking from beyond the garages. Caesar must have gone off to explore by himself as we came into the courtyard. Johnny was concerned he would wake up the servants, if not the current owner, so we hurried towards the barking with a view to calming Caesar down and making our escape pretty smartish. That’s when we found the remains. Come, gentlemen, I’ll show you the way.’
‘As far as you’re aware, was last night the first time Mr Perera’s been back?’ asked de Silva as he and Archie followed Rudd into the sunshine.
‘I think so.’
‘Did he explain why the family left?’
‘Yes. Apparently, his father was in the tea business for a while before he changed to growing rubber. There was no point in keeping the plantation, so he sold up to Victor Moncrieff, Donald’s father.’
‘Did you find any cars in any of the other garages?’ asked Archie.
Rudd shook his head. ‘We had a mosey around the place but all we found were spare parts, although the photographs pinned up in various places bore out that Moncrieff had owned a pretty impressive collection over the years.’
While Archie and Rudd walked ahead of him, Archie asking the medic questions about the cars, de Silva reflected that if Rudd was right about this being the first time Perera had chosen to visit his old home, it was strange. It wasn’t the first time he’d been back to Nuala. He’d taken part in the previous two rallies and maybe more. Why this sudden desire to come up to the plantation? Was it simply a matter of getting older? A yearning for times gone by? But then again, Perera was still a relatively young man.
The path in the overgrown area they were walking through was hard to discern and the going was rough. Temporarily, the need to watch where he put his feet distracted de Silva from speculating any further. All around them trees furred with damp moss and heavy with vines and lianas reached for the sky, blotting out the sunshine and leaving only murky grey-green light. Steamy air soon had de Silva’s face filmed with sweat; he felt his shirt stick to his skin. Underfoot, dry, leathery leaves crackled and twigs snapped. Thorny bushes caught on his clothes, and roots snagged his feet. Once, when they had to scramble over fallen tree trunks, he saw the slimy black shapes of some leeches in the crevices of the gnarled bark. Instinctively, he reached for his wrinkled socks and yanked them up to his knees.
At last they came to a clearing. Ahead, he saw a place where the ground fell away sharply to a gully. Uprooted bushes and small trees, and the trails of rocks and pebbles that littered the slope, indicated there had been a landslide. Very likely one of the heavy monsoon rainstorms had been responsible.
At the sight of de Silva and his companions, the three men sitting on the brow of the slope scrambled to their feet and stood to attention. A tarpaulin was spread out on the ground a few yards in front of them.
‘They’re servants from the plantation,’ said Rudd. ‘Last night we found them asleep in one of the outhouses and got them down here to help with the digging. I didn’t like to remove the bones we unearthed, so I instructed them to keep watch in case there were wild animals about.’
De Silva felt sympathy for the three men. All they seemed to have by way of protection were the spades they must have used for digging and a couple of oil lanterns. They would have been of limited use if a hungry leopard came along. He doubted that the rough ground had provided a comfortable resting place either.
Rudd slithered a little way down the slope and pulled the tarpaulin aside to reveal a shallow trench. Peering into it, de Silva saw that a jumble of bones, including a skull, lay in it. Some of the bones were half embedded in the red earth, others fully disinterred. Indubitably, they were human.
‘The deceased was male,’ said Rudd, regaining the brow of the slope and dusting off his hands on his khaki trouser legs. ‘At least six foot, I’d say.’
‘Not much to go on,’ remarked Archie with a frown.
‘I’m afraid not, but I did notice something that may help you. The tibia, or shinbone, of the left leg had been broken in two places. The bone had been reset with considerable skill and looks to have healed very satisfactorily. One can always tell where new tissue has knit bone together. In my opinion, we are not looking at the remains of a local villager. More likely someone with access to sophisticated medical care from a specialist surgeon. Perhaps the local surgery or hospital will have information that helps you to identify the deceased.’
‘Hmm, interesting. It’s worth a few enquiries. D’you agree, de Silva?’
De Silva nodded.
‘Have a word with Doctor Hebden when we get back to town. See if he remembers treating an injury like that.’
‘Very well, sir.’ If Hebden did, and the patient had been Donald Moncrieff, the first question this mystery threw up would be solved.
‘Anything else that might help us, Rudd?’
‘Not as far as I can tell. If he was clothed when he was buried, the clothes have rotted away, and if he wore a watch or anything made of metal, a ring for example, whoever buried him must have removed it first.’
‘Any idea how long he’s been here?’ asked Archie.
‘Hard to say. In a tropical climate, skeletonization tends to occur relatively quickly, often within a year of death, especially where plentiful insect life is present in the soil. Final disintegration, however, takes much longer, probably up to twenty years. So, take your choice of somewhere between the two.’
‘Any indication of the cause of death that you’ve noticed?’
Rudd shrugged. ‘Nothing jumps out.’
From the furrow that appeared between Archie’s eyebrows, de Silva wondered if he was finding Rudd’s dismissive manner irritating too, but if he was, he kept it to himself.
‘Anything more you want to look at, de Silva?’ he asked, stirring the dusty ground with his stick.
More for the sake of form than in the hope of any great revelations, de Silva picked his way down the slope to the shallow trench and hunkered down next to it. He picked up a flat, sharp-edged stone that lay near the bones and poked about with it for a few moments before straightening up and scrambling back to level ground. ‘I’ll send my sergeant and my constable up here later to make a search of the surrounding area, but for the moment, I agree that unless something new comes to light from another source, the broken leg gives us our best chance of finding out who this was.’
‘Do you think there’s been foul play?’ asked Rudd.
‘I think it’s very likely. If this man had been a Christian, he wouldn’t legitimately have been buried out here. Equally, cremation is the most common way for Buddhists and Hindus to dispose of their dead.’
‘What if he was Muslim?’ asked Archie.
‘I’ve had some experience of Muslim funeral practices when I was working in Egypt,’ Rudd interjected before de Silva had time to answer. ‘Cremation is forbidden, but it’s customary to bury the dead in cemeteries.’
‘Isn’t there some ancient custom of forest burial, de Silva?’ asked Archie.
Now he was clutching at straws, thought de Silva. ‘Yes sir,’ he said patiently. ‘It’s true there’s an old tradition whereby the body of the deceased is wrapped in a white cloth and a sleeping mat, then taken deep into the jungle and left there to be consumed by animals.’ He looked around him at the spindly fallen trees and scrubby ground. ‘But I’d hardly describe this area as deep jungle, and I doubt anyone would perform a forest burial so close to habitation, particularly on British property. Also the expensive work done on the broken leg suggests that this was not someone whom one would expect to have a forest burial. I’m pretty sure this man was murdered, and his killer buried the body out here hoping it would never be found.’
Archie studied his shoes. ‘You may be right,’ he muttered.
There was an awkward pause, broken by Michael Rudd. ‘If there’s nothing more I can do, I’ll be on my way.’ He looked rather bored n
ow. Probably keen to get back to the comfort of the Crown Hotel, thought de Silva.
‘Of course,’ said Archie. ‘Thank you for your help. Unpleasant business. I hope it hasn’t taken the shine off your man’s victory yesterday.’
Rudd smiled. ‘Oh, I think Johnny will rise above it. Well, I’ll be on my way.’
‘Decent enough fellow,’ remarked Archie as Rudd disappeared into the trees. ‘What do you want to do next, de Silva?’
‘I’d like a word with these men.’ He gestured to the three servants who stood a little way off looking increasingly gloomy. ‘Once I’ve done that, I suggest we leave them here on guard and go back up to the house. We need something to transport the bones in. The ground’s far too rough for the undertakers to drive down here. I’ll call them and ask them to collect from there then they can keep the bones safe until we can arrange a proper burial.’
‘Quite right. Whoever this fellow was, his remains ought to be treated with respect.’
De Silva went over to the servants and spoke to them.
‘We do not know anything, sahib,’ the eldest man said nervously. ‘We told the doctor sahib and his friends this already. We were sleeping when they woke us to come and dig. We did not know what we would find.’
De Silva nodded. ‘I see, and how long have you worked here?’
‘For five years, sahib.’
De Silva looked at the other men. ‘And what about you?’
They mumbled they had worked at the plantation for three and five years respectively.
So, none of them had been employed in Donald Moncrieff’s time.
‘I want you to stay here for a while longer,’ he said. ‘The sahib and I will send something you can move these bones on. I want them brought up to the house.’
The eldest man looked worried.
‘I’ll come here again to help you,’ de Silva said quickly. ‘I don’t expect you to carry out the operation on your own.’
‘Yes, sahib. Thank you, sahib.’
‘Once you’ve dealt with the bones,’ said Archie as they retraced their steps in the direction of the house, ‘I suggest we find out where Marina Moncrieff is and speak with her. Whatever the outcome, and her history with her husband, she may well be distressed by all this. We’ll have to tread carefully. With luck, there’ll be some woman friend who can be called to sit with her. After that, we should call the rest of the servants together. I hope we can find out whether any of them recall any disappearances, unexplained or otherwise, from amongst their number. I’m wondering if there was ever bad blood between any of them, and a murder went undiscovered or was hushed up.’
De Silva gave him a sideways glance. He wasn’t prepared to let his boss off the hook as easily as all that. Archie looked a little crestfallen.
‘I agree that we should speak with Marina Moncrieff as soon as possible, sir. As the remains have been found on her property, she ought to be informed. But I’ll be surprised if this can be put down to a quarrel between servants.’
Archie didn’t reply.
Chapter 3
Back at the house, a servant opened the front door to them. He eyed Archie and de Silva cautiously. ‘How can I help you, sahibs?’
‘Is Mrs Marina Moncrieff here? We need to speak with her as a matter of urgency.’
The man looked apologetic. ‘I think she is not at home. She did not order breakfast this morning, but if you will wait, please, I will see what I can find out for you.’
He left them standing on the doorstep and disappeared inside.
‘Odd,’ remarked Archie. ‘You’d think a servant would know where the mistress of the house is. If she’s away, why doesn’t he say so?’
Several minutes passed. Irritably, Archie flicked away a fly that buzzed around him. ‘Dratted thing! What on earth’s this fellow up to keeping us waiting out here like this? Either she’s here or she’s not.’
That was an unarguable conclusion, thought de Silva, but he said nothing. Archie took a step into the gloomy hall and almost collided with a new man who was more smartly dressed than the porter.
‘I am sorry you have been kept waiting, sahibs. I understand you asked to see the memsahib, but she is out.’
‘Do you know where she is?’ asked de Silva.
The man shook his head. ‘When I saw her yesterday, she did not mention she would be going out, but today her car is not here.’
‘Who saw her last?’
‘Her maid, Prema.’
‘When was that?’
‘After dinner last night. The memsahib said she did not need her for the rest of the evening. She wanted to read in her bedroom. Prema was to tell one of the other servants to lock up and then go to her quarters.’
‘Is there a nightwatchman?’
‘Yes, but he does not sleep in the main building. In the morning, when Prema took the memsahib her tea as usual, she was not there, and her bed had not been slept in.’
De Silva frowned. It sounded as if security arrangements at the Moncrieffs’ establishment were somewhat lax. ‘Thank you. And what is your name?’
‘Muttu. I am the head of the servants here. Is there some problem, sahib?’
‘Yes, the skeleton of a man has been found in the wooded area behind the garage courtyard.’
Muttu’s eyes widened. ‘You are sure, sahib?’
‘Of course we’re sure,’ said Archie testily. ‘Has anyone been reported missing since you started work here?’
A guarded look came over Muttu’s face. De Silva wondered how much he knew about the history of the Moncrieff family.
‘No one is accusing you or any of the other servants of anything,’ de Silva said patiently. ‘But last night, a gentleman by the name of Perera and his friends came here. Mr Perera once lived at the plantation, and he wished to revisit his old home. If Mrs Moncrieff was here, she didn’t come out to meet them. One of them had a dog with him. A large and powerful dog. It dug up some bones in the area behind the garage courtyard. A place where there looks to have been a landslide quite recently.’
Muttu looked puzzled. ‘I know the place you mean, sahib, but no one goes there. The ground is too poor to grow vegetables. It is not good for anything.’
‘Nevertheless, someone buried a man’s body there, but we aren’t sure when. Some of Mr Perera’s friends called three of your staff to do some digging, and they found the skeleton. If anyone on this plantation knows who the man was, it’s imperative they keep nothing back. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sahib. Shall I tell them you wish to speak with them?’
‘All in good time. First, we need a conveyance of some kind to transport the bones back here. Some sacking would be useful too. To protect them.’
Muttu looked relieved at the prospect of having something to do. ‘Right away, sahib.’
‘And find someone to take it down to where we found the bones. I can show him the way.’
‘I’ll be glad to leave that to you, de Silva,’ said Archie, mopping his forehead. ‘Dashed hot this morning. If there’s somewhere handy in the shade, I’ll park myself and wait for you to get back.’
‘Very well, sir.’
Muttu returned with another servant who was pushing a wooden barrow, the kind of thing that de Silva kept for use in his garden. It didn’t seem the most respectful of conveyances, but anything bigger would probably not be able to negotiate the rough track successfully.
‘I hope this will do, sahib,’ said Muttu.
De Silva nodded. ‘The sahib will stay here. Please find him somewhere to sit where he can be cool.’
‘The drawing room is cool. Shall I bring something to drink?’
De Silva saw Archie cast a surreptitious glance at his wristwatch. No doubt in his present state, he would welcome a whisky, but it was rather early for that.
‘Sun’s not over the yardarm yet,’ he said gruffly. ‘Better make it a cup of tea.’
Leaving the servant to show Archie the way to the drawing room, de Silva led th
e man with the barrow back to the place where the bones had been found. As he walked, he wondered where Marina Moncrieff had got to. Had she been reading in her room the previous evening, as she had told her maid she planned to? Maybe she had been wary about coming out to face a crowd of strangers. She might even have been afraid that the place was about to be broken into. But if that was the case, why not call for help? Particularly where isolated properties were concerned, most owners had a telephone, or if not, at least some kind of system rigged up to enable them to raise the alarm if they feared there was danger. He had heard of people using bells or firecrackers to scare unwelcome visitors away. They were also useful as deterrents against marauding elephants. He supposed it was possible that Marina Moncrieff had heard intruders and been too frightened to act. Or was she a deep sleeper and unaware that she had unexpected visitors? But her bed had not been slept in.
The only other explanation he could think of was that she hadn’t actually been in residence when Perera and his friends arrived. He remembered Rudd telling Archie that they hadn’t found any cars in the garages, and if she had fled to escape supposed intruders wouldn’t Rudd have heard her car engine as she left? Whatever the case, it was odd that she had absented herself without telling her servants when to expect her back.
He arrived at the site of the shallow grave, the servant with the barrow trundling along behind, and the three servants jumped to attention. Under de Silva’s direction, they and the barrow pusher lifted the bones and placed them carefully on a bed of sacking. When de Silva was satisfied that nothing had been missed, they returned to the house.
Muttu was waiting for them in the forecourt.
‘You’d better find a safe place to stow these until I have time to send the undertakers up to collect them,’ said de Silva. ‘But first, show me to the drawing room.’
In the drawing room, Archie looked up at his entrance. There was a half-finished cup of tea on the table at his elbow and a crumpled newspaper by his feet.
Cold Case in Nuala (The Inspector de Silva Mysteries Book 10) Page 4
