Lord James Harrington and the Cornish Mystery

by Lynn Florkiewicz

  ‘No, no. I was thinking about Bert. He has contacts all over and I’m sure he could dig up dirt on a city banker, don’t you?’

  She smiled. ‘Where would you be, Mr Harrington, without a mystery to solve.’

  ‘Where indeed, Mrs Harrington.’

  He walked round to the driver’s side and, in the distance, observed Tristram and Hans climbing into their van.

  ‘Looks like they have another call on their hands.’

  ‘They’re very dedicated, aren’t they? Did you see the way they handled that seal? It was as if it were made of china.’

  James pulled away and began thinking about his plans. He would have to telephone Bert and find out more about Jonah; getting to know Kerry Sheppard would be enlightening and he wondered how approachable this Nibbin creature was. She seemed to crop up on everyone’s list of suspects.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Colm tensed. His heart felt like a stampede.

  Someone was here, he was certain. Whoever had taken him had gone. He’d been given water and half a pasty. He’d complained and received a smack across the face for his objections. But that person had gone. This was someone else. He was sure of it.

  There it was again. A faint moan. He strained to listen and tried to yell but his words were stifled by the gag.

  His eyes pricked. He hadn’t cried since he was a kid; when he fell off the harbour wall and cut his knees open.

  Now he wanted to weep. He wanted to go home. He wanted to feel the ocean breeze and watch the tumbling seas.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘Are you joking?’

  James assured Bert he was doing nothing of the sort. After two phone calls; one to the market trader and one to the bookmaker, James had tracked him down to a pub in Brighton. He gave Bert a bite-sized version of events to date and emphasised that Bert ‘knew’ people and could find out if anything untoward had happened with Jonah Quinn.

  ‘Listen, me old codger, if anyone’s likely to know, it’ll be that copper you mentioned earlier - Innes. He sounds like the sort of geezer who’ll spill the beans; he thinks you’re a big fish in the little old port of Polpenn’f. He wants to make a good impression.’

  ‘I will take that into consideration but I don’t want to get Innes in trouble. And, the said constable has already told this Inspector Wormstone I was asking questions.’

  ‘Blimey, you got Jarvis Wormstone down there?’

  James couldn’t hide his disbelief. ‘Bert, is there anyone you don’t know?’

  He heard the suggestive chuckle down the line. ‘That’s for me to know, mate. Look, I’ll put a few feelers out this end and you give it a shot with that young copper. Do what you normally do – keep it general and slip in the odd question.’

  ‘George mentioned that you may be coming down this way.’

  ‘That’s right, prob’ly tomorrow or the next day. There’s racing on at Buckfastleigh so I’ll jump on a bus from there.’

  ‘And will we have the delightful Gladys here too?’

  James grinned as he heard a groan. ‘Jimmy boy, stop putting two and two together and making seven. I’ll be on me tod. George gave me your number there, now let me get on with my pint. I’ll let you know when I’m down.’

  They said goodbye and James went upstairs to change. ‘What does one wear for an evening in a caravan?’

  Beth gave him a playful slap. ‘Don’t be such a snob. Have you ever been in a caravan?’

  ‘I don’t think I have.’

  Beth opted for Capri pants and a pale blue sweater. James put on a pair of cream trousers and chose a loose open-necked shirt and a sweater.

  At the site, they parked alongside the Merryweathers’ Austin 7 and managed to scamper inside as the heavens opened. The rain drummed on the roof but this only increased the sense of cosiness inside. The Merryweathers took them on a tour of the caravan. They began at the far end where one double bedroom spanned the width. It had a triple aspect and the back window looked across the countryside to the north. They then entered the kitchen which held a small cooker and a larder. This opened out to the lounge area with a dining table and another triple aspect. Seats were fitted to both sides and at the far end there was a panoramic view out to sea which, this evening, was obscured by the now vertical rain streaming down the windows.

  ‘Good grief, look at that rain,’ said James peering out. He looked about. ‘This is actually rather nice, isn’t it?’

  ‘Where do Luke and Mark sleep?’ said Beth.

  ‘Ah ha!’ Stephen lifted up the cushions in the lounge area and slid a bench across. ‘The s-same thing happens the other s-side so it makes up two single beds.’

  ‘Ingenious.’

  Anne clapped her hands together. ‘Now, who’s for tea? Or do you want something stronger? We have a bottle of white wine. I know it’s raining but I’ve concocted a salad supper, I hope that’s all right. I discovered a little butcher’s shop up one of the side streets and I have home-made pork pies and some lovely cheese that I bought from the farm next door.’

  An order for white wine was the unanimous decision. Stephen uncorked a bottle of Blue Nun.

  Beth nudged Anne. ‘Is Kerry Sheppard coming?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ her eyes sparkled, ‘have you found anything else out?’

  They went through their chat with Tristram and the rumours that were beginning to circulate. Stephen questioned each and every one.

  ‘B-but Jonah seems s-such a nice man. And this Nibbin woman is simply an eccentric. And w-why would Kerry be kidnapping men? She spends a-all her time writing and researching.’

  Anne tut-tutted him. ‘How do you know any of them are what they seem? We don’t know these people; they may all be psychopathic murderers.’

  Stephen sighed to the heavens. ‘I-I’m sure you’re quite wrong.’

  Beth joined Anne in the kitchen area and helped prepare the salad. ‘James put a call through to Bert and he’s finding out a little more about Jonah and his time in London. Did anything untoward happen at the beach today?’

  The Merryweathers reported that the morning had gone by without a hitch. The sandcastle competition was a great success and the fairy parade finished about thirty minutes after James and Beth had gone.

  Anne held up a tomato. ‘We did witness an argument with that man Enoch and his wife.’

  ‘Y-yes, a little unsavoury, especially as there were ch-children in the area.’

  ‘How d’you mean?’

  Stephen explained that Enoch had taken exception to something his wife had done or said. ‘He was incredibly rude to her and I-I’m certain it wasn’t w-warranted. Indeed, I know it wasn’t warranted. Nothing like that is warranted.’

  ‘A horrible man,’ said Anne, ‘no two ways about it.’

  ‘Or perhaps,’ said Beth, ‘he has a lot on his plate at the moment.’

  There was a knock. ‘Hello?’

  Anne quickly turned to open the door. ‘Kerry, come in out of the rain.’

  James turned to see an attractive lady with an olive complexion enter. She stood at around five feet six inches tall with thick dark brown hair that fell around her shoulders. She wore blue jeans, a red polka dot blouse and white plimsolls. He got up as Anne introduced them.

  She made eye contact with them both and had a firm, no-nonsense handshake. ‘So lovely to meet you.’

  Beth reciprocated and added that they were particularly interested in the subject of her book. ‘I’m sure Stephen and Anne have told you how we try and keep the local customs alive where we are.’

  Kerry accepted a glass of wine and sat down opposite them. ‘Yes, and it sounds like a place I must visit. I did some research on the bonfire societies in Sussex but it appears you do quite a lot in Cavendish. Anne mentioned that you have a scarecrow festival, is that right?’

  ‘During the autumn,’ said James and he went on to highlight a number of traditions they celebrated. ‘You should certainly come and visit if you’re in the area.’

&nb
sp; Stephen topped the glasses up as Anne and Beth distributed plates of salad. The pork pies and cheese were displayed separately and Anne instructed them to simply help themselves to what they wanted. James looked out of the window.

  ‘Where are Luke and Mark?’

  ‘A few families and their children are in the little social club. They’re playing board games – wet weather contingency plan. We thought they’d enjoy that more than sitting listening to us. The site owner’s wife is a nursery school teacher. She organises things according to the weather.’

  ‘Splendid,’ said James as he helped himself to a pie. He cut into it, pleased to see the crisp pastry and the coating of aspic jelly inside. ‘So, Kerry, you were here when all this business started with kidnappings?’

  The writer groaned. ‘I’ve had the police round, did you know?’

  As one, they all stared at her.

  ‘Yes, apparently, they viewed me as a suspicious person.’

  ‘But why?’ said Anne.

  ‘I’m an independent woman with my own mind and I argued with the two men who have gone missing.’

  James proffered the cheese platter. ‘Question – what has being an independent woman have to do with anything?’

  She looked pleased with his observation. ‘Precisely. I do feel I’ve been transported back to before the war when I come down here. The general order of things in such remote places, cut off from society is that, as a woman, you must marry, have children and/or be a home-maker. If you are anything other than that, you are deemed odd. I’ve made it perfectly clear that I have no need of a husband; I hate the thought of having children; and men, no disrespect to either of you, are a nuisance around me.’

  He couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I say, that’s a little strong isn’t it? Are we of no use to you whatsoever?’

  She joined in with the laughter. ‘I don’t mean it to sound so harsh. I did have a someone a few years ago and what a trial it was! He was needy, wanting me to be with him all the time. I never got a chance to write.’

  ‘P-perhaps you chose the wrong man.’

  ‘No. I am simply not a social girl. I don’t like people.’ She gestured her hand. ‘This is acceptable. I was asked if I would like to come; I am not confined to a specific time to leave, I don’t have to wait for a companion to leave with me. I am my own woman.’

  Beth sliced some cheese. ‘And this approach of yours presumably has been communicated to the villagers.’

  Kerry confirmed that it had. ‘I make no bones about it. Those two fishermen were annoyingly bad-tempered in The Pilchard on my first evening here. They were saying inappropriate things about my appearance and I put them in the picture.’

  ‘What sort of things?’ asked Anne.

  ‘Lewd, suggestive and completely unacceptable. This is because I entered the bar without a man. That Colm thought he was the leading stag in the herd and his little protégé, Bevis, brought up the rear. Some of the other fishermen joined in but, like I say, I put them in the picture. I told them they’d be sorry if they didn’t stop.’

  James raised his eyebrows and enquired what she had intended to do.

  She gave him a shrug. ‘I’ve no idea but I did say the wrong thing. It was the evening before the festival and I simply said that Old Bogey would get them. I know some of them believe in this rubbish and it worked. They went quite quiet.’

  ‘And this led to the police coming to visit?’

  ‘Yes.’ She sipped her wine. ‘Inspector Jarvis Wormstone visited. Told me I’d been mentioned as someone having an argument with the missing man.’

  ‘And what did you say?’

  ‘I agreed that I had. But if every man I’d had an argument with had gone missing, we’d be pretty short where the male population are concerned.’ She cut into her tomato. ‘I told him to search the caravan, search my car and go and speak with that weird woman, Nibbin. I sit on the cliff-tops with my dogs. I have a small typewriter and a notepad, I sit in a deckchair and write. She will have seen me.’

  The conversation went directly to Nibbin and how strange the woman was. Anne asked Kerry if she’d spoken with her.

  ‘She yelled at me yesterday. Something about poking my nose into village traditions. Apparently it’s none of my business but it’s hardly a private affair is it? Then she let out a cheer about me confronting Colm Fiske. She seems unbalanced.’

  ‘Do you know exactly where she lives?’ asked James.

  ‘She heads off inland whenever I see her. The cliff-tops have no shelter so she must be further back. I’m down here to research the folklore not follow the mad woman. Why are you so interested in her?’

  The question caught James off guard but he was quick to think of a reason. ‘Some of these people often have a more in-depth knowledge of the customs. She may be someone who could give you an eccentric slant on things.’

  Kerry dismissed it as unlikely. The conversation lulled and as Anne tidied up the plates she asked how the book was going.

  The author fell into a resigned slouch. ‘Oh it’s fine. Hard work sometimes but you have to work through it.’

  ‘And folklore is obviously an interest of yours.’

  ‘No it’s not. My publisher feels there is a need for this sort of thing and I’m not exactly rolling in pound notes, so here I am researching a subject that although interesting, is not something I’m passionate about.’

  James sympathised and added that perhaps she would get her break one day. He added: ‘So do you have any notions about what happened to these men?’

  Kerry went through the people that she’d observed during the parades and surmised that most were tourists. ‘The residents seem to either take part or wait for the parade to end up at the far field. I didn’t actually know the names of the men who went missing until they disappeared. The tourists do touristy things, the residents are welcoming on the surface but don’t like you to see what’s beneath. They seem a reserved lot, wary of outsiders. But if you’re asking if I saw anything then the answer’s no. The newspapers report that no one saw any struggles. It is odd, I’ll grant you. Certainly more interesting to write about.’

  James asked where she originated from and learned that she lived in St David’s in Wales. She didn’t speak with a Welsh accent but, she explained, this was because she moved from Southend in Essex, several hundred miles to the east.

  James baulked. ‘That’s quite a change.’ He recalled that Southend was a favourite holiday destination for Londoners and was chock-a-block full with fish and chip shops, as well as having a beach, an exceptionally long pier and a recently opened airport.

  ‘Hell-hole. As soon as I could, I left home and moved somewhere quiet and peaceful with no controlling father hovering over me.’

  ‘Oh dear; you didn’t get on with your father?’

  ‘Stepfather. An idiot of the first degree but unaware of it. Bullish by looks and bullish by nature. What he said went and that was the end of it. If I’d have stayed there any longer, I would have put a knife in him.’

  ‘Th-this would be the r-reason why you’re so a-averse to the male population.’

  She gave Stephen a curt nod. ‘I think so, yes. I’ve seen many men like that and I’m not wasting time trying to find the one that breaks the mould.’

  Beth was quick to state this was a somewhat narrow-minded approach. ‘Don’t you think you’ve simply been unlucky?’

  Kerry began to gather her things. ‘Perhaps, but I’m not wasting years of my life trying to find one that isn’t. It’s kind of you to invite me but there is no rest when you’re a writer. Needs must.’ She turned to James and Beth. ‘It was good to meet you. Perhaps I may bump into you again if time permits me to cover your customs in Cavendish. I hope your residents there are not as improper as the fishermen of Polpennarth.’

  James offered his hand adding they’d be delighted to see her.

  Once the door had closed, they all looked at one another. Anne broke the silence. ‘She really is anti-men, isn’t sh
e?’

  ‘I’ll say,’ said Beth. ‘And she doesn’t seem to have given relationships much of a go. I mean one failure is not the end of the world.’

  ‘I-I feel that she is simply an independent woman in no n-need of company, male or f-female.’

  James agreed. She was an independent lady set in her ways about her views on men. To have a controlling stepfather would have contributed to that and must have been awful, especially if her mother had loved this man. He wondered if she was an only child. During their discussion, she never mentioned any siblings, or any other family nearby. To uproot and take yourself as far away from home as possible might indicate a troubled childhood. Whatever it was, it had put Kerry Sheppard firmly in the camp of disliking company and being bothered with men in particular.

  Colm clearly influenced Bevis in his thinking. Goading a single woman because of her independence was ignorant and ill-mannered. Was this simply a clash of backgrounds? Kerry loathed the fishermen for their outlook, hard-drinking and rudeness. It obviously touched a nerve. Had this riled Kerry Sheppard and forced her to resort to kidnap? If it had, how on earth did she manage it? And to what purpose? She said she wasn’t rolling in pound notes but there’d been no ransom demand.

  Anne interrupted his musings to ask what he was thinking about.

  ‘I’m pretty sure that whoever kidnapped Colm and Bevis knew them. How else could no one have seen them disappear? If you’re kidnapped by a stranger, you would put up one hell of a fight. They’re local men, born and bred in Polpennarth; I would imagine that most villagers know them either by sight or through working and drinking with them.’

  ‘W-what are you saying?’

  ‘I’m saying that this is not an outsider. Kerry Sheppard has been targeted by villagers and the police because of her views and her lifestyle. Her attitude is not unusual to us, or anyone in our area, because we see it every day. Look at Elsie Taylor who runs the café. She’s fiercely independent and as far as I know has never had a steady chap by her side. For all I know, she may have the same background as Kerry but we’re comfortable with that and think nothing of it.’