James went through it all again to make sure he’d understood. ‘So Jonah has a fling with the boss’s daughter who is young enough to be his own daughter. The boss makes life hell for Jonah who in turn gets drunk and stabs the boss. The boss drops charges providing Jonah clear off.’
‘That’s the gist of it, mate.’
‘C-can I ask. Do you know w-what the boss did to m-make life awkward for Jonah?’
‘No pay rises for a start. They had two increases one year and Jonah didn’t get one. He pulled him up on some shoddy work and demoted him so he then had a pay cut. This Saunders bloke reckoned that Jonah was a good worker so it didn’t make sense to him.’
James supped his ale. ‘It’s all very interesting but it doesn’t really put him in the frame for kidnapping these men.’
‘I ain’t finished yet.’
James raised his eyebrows. He and Stephen instinctively leant toward Bert.
‘He also had a holiday romance. Bragged about it when he was still in the city. He’d come down ’ere for a recce; must have been about the time he was thinking o’ moving down here.’
‘A romance with whom?’
Bert felt in his pocket and brought out an old betting slip. ‘I wrote the name down. Might not mean anything though.’ He examined it. ‘Evelyn. Evelyn Cline.’
James turned to Stephen. ‘How long has Evelyn Fiske been married d’you think?’
‘I don’t know. A few years.’
‘Who’s Evelyn Fiske?’ asked Bert.
‘The wife of Colm Fiske, the first man to be kidnapped.’
James twirled a sodden beer mat. ‘I believe our Jonah is a bit of a lothario, don’t you?’
‘I-I wonder if he’s romanced that Debra woman too?’
‘We need to find out if Evelyn Cline and Evelyn Fiske are one and the same.’
‘That should be pretty easy’ said Bert drinking the last of his beer. ‘Drink up, I’ll go and find out.’
James looked on as Bert entered the bar and engaged Bidevin in some friendly banter. As the landlord pulled three pints, he spoke with Bert then appeared to show him directions. Bert held a hand up in thanks and emerged with their drinks.
‘Evelyn Fiske, maiden name Cline, married ten years to Colm.’
‘G-good grief.’ Stephen insisted on knowing how he did it.
‘I said I’ve got distant family in these parts; name of Cline. Anyone of that name ’ere?’
James chuckled. How wonderful it was to have his friend here. Holidays were no doubt enjoyable with new places to discover, new acquaintances to make and fresh experiences to be had but having the Merryweathers and Bert here was an absolute joy. He came out of his musing and asked if Bert had any more news about Jarvis Wormstone.
‘Not really. He was a good copper by all accounts. Thought things through – didn’t just go blustering in. What’s he been like down ’ere then?’
James went through the conversation that he and Beth had had with PC Innes earlier in the day and hinted that he felt Wormstone was overlooking vital information. ‘He seems to be set in a certain direction and dismissing obvious lines of enquiry.’
‘I’m sure he ’as a set way of working. He don’t sound like the sort of bloke who’d dismiss things for no reason. And you ain’t got access to what he’s discovered so far. What’s Jarvis think of Innes?’
He pulled a face. ‘Not entirely sure. He’s a big cheese from the city and Innes is only a couple of years into the job. Do you think he’s playing his cards close to his chest?’
‘Per’aps. Coppers come in all forms and Wormstone is up there with the best; like George.’
DCI George Lane was highly regarded in the Sussex Constabulary and this was indeed high praise from Bert. His cockney friend was a wheeler and dealer and the police were never high up in his estimations. But, in fairness to Bert, he recognised a decent detective when one came along. So far, Inspector Jarvis Wormstone was deemed an intelligent and fair policeman. Perhaps James was wrong to make judgements based on Innes’ opinion.
‘Bert, do you have any other snippets of information?’
‘No mate. I like the sound of that Nibbin woman. You ought to track her down. Those types normally know more than you think. But you two have obviously got your teeth into it all. Anything else to report?’
James said he didn’t think so. The pattern so far was that the two men were involved in the fishing community and belonged to no clubs or shared hobbies. The only link was that their wives all attended the WI. ‘There are some odd lights that have been flashing up the coast there. I’ve asked a couple of people about them and one gave me the impression she knew but wouldn’t say.’
Bidevin appeared with a tea towel over his shoulder. He scanned the tables and collected up any empty glasses. When he reached them, James asked about the flashing lights out at sea and whether it meant anything.
The landlord stopped dead and narrowed his eyes at James. ‘It means you’re asking too many questions. Those lights...they only...’ He picked up the glasses. ‘Go and speak with Andrew, the old bloke in the corner.’ He strode off.
‘I say, that was disconcerting.’ James sat up and looked across to where Bidevin had pointed. A wiry old man with a tobacco stained beard sat gazing across the bay. He wore a Guernsey jumper and smoked a long clay pipe and looked like a character from a Dickens novel. James excused himself and threaded his way through the benches to speak with Andrew.
The old man puffed his pipe and his piercing blue eyes fell on James. ‘Arr?’
‘Hello, my name’s James and Bidevin suggested I speak with you about some lights I keep seeing off the coast every night.’
‘Arr.’
‘He suggested you might know what they are. Thing is, I’m the only one who seems to see them.’
‘No one else sees ’em you say?’
James pulled up an old beer barrel and sat down. ‘Are you able to enlighten me?’
‘We had strange lights out to sea from the end of the Great War. Said to be the ghosts of fishermen drowned after their boat was hit by a submarine. The lights, back then, were supposed to lure German boats to their doom but we ain’t at war no more.’
‘Are you telling me I’m seeing ghosts?’
‘People who see mysterious lights have to be careful.’
‘Careful of what?’
‘Their own wellbeing. You’re the man asking questions about Colm and Bevis?’
James assured him it was simple curiosity. ‘I’m fascinated about how two grown men can just disappear. I don’t mean any harm.’
Andrew chewed the tip of his pipe. ‘Per’aps it’s time to stop that. Those lights are luring you to danger. You back off, the lights’ll disappear.’ He placed the pipe in his mouth and returned his attention to the sea.
James returned to Bert and Stephen and recounted the conversation. Stephen’s eyes opened wide with horror.
Bert chuckled. ‘Bloody fairy stories. They’re all bonkers down ’ere with all their folklore and ghost stories.’ He tilted his head. ‘I asked you before you left. You don’t believe any of this cobblers, do you?’
James laughed at him but he felt uneasy about the ghost lights. ‘The best way to put this to bed is to hire a boat and see for myself. I’ve already asked someone who is able to lend me a boat.’
He turned to Bert and asked if he would come. Stephen immediately objected and even Bert had reservations.
‘Oi, why don’t we get ourselves on the cliff-tops tonight with some binoculars and keep a look out – see if we can make out what it is.’
‘Surely being on the sea would be better.’
‘Not for me, it ain’t. I ’ate boats and getting in one with you in the middle of the night ain’t my idea of a good time. What’ll Beth think about it? I can’t imagine she’s happy about you playing sleuth when you’re s’posed to be on holiday.’
He and Stephen exchanged a wry smile prompting Bert to ask what was so funny.
&n
bsp; ‘Beth and Anne, as we speak, are attending the WI meeting with strict instructions to instigate discreet investigations.’ He looked across to the road to the old Seaman’s Mission on the far side where the meeting was taking place and wondered how they were getting on.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Beth felt her shoulders relax as Hilda, the matriarch of the Polpennarth WI, gave her and Anne the warmest of welcomes. In her booming voice she announced that Lady Elizabeth Harrington and her friend Anne Merryweather were here on holiday and were keen to visit the local WI.
There were around fifteen women in the hall, including Gretchen, Evelyn, Debra, Edith and Vivian. Beth asked if any were missing.
Hilda explained there were some absentees. ‘During the holiday season we dip in numbers. A few of ours run full board accommodation so it’s difficult to get away. Once the holiday season’s over, we swell to thirty. Now, we’ll sing the anthem and then you’ll be having tea.’
They gathered together and launched into ‘Jerusalem’ which Beth felt sounded a little tired with so few people singing. Following this, they were nudged toward a bench table at the side of the hall and introduced to three elderly ladies who prepared tea and offered out slices of sponge.
Hilda strode to the front and clapped her hands. ‘As we have guests, I’ve divided the evening into two. It’ll be nice for our guests to get to know us but we must also go through the hymn.’
One of the ladies leant toward Beth and Anne. ‘We’re singing ‘Eternal Father’ at a special fishermen’s day next month.’
Hilda continued. ‘We’ll go through the hymn a couple of times now and have a break and continue later along with making plans for future evenings. Perhaps Lady Harrington and Mrs Merryweather could tell us a little about their WI and what they do.’
Beth and Anne said they’d be delighted. They were provided with song sheets and invited to join in with the group. Gretchen Kettel adjusted the stool by the piano and arranged the music. Her frame was so tiny that Beth felt she needed a smaller piano. She wondered how her fingers would stretch across the ivories. She hammered down hard on the keyboard and an off-key chord rang out.
Anne whispered in Beth’s ear. ‘Is it me or does that piano need tuning?’
Beth suppressed a smile and agreed. The women all stood and began to sing:
‘Eternal Father, strong to save; whose arm hath
bound the restless wave,
Who bidd’st the mighty ocean deep, its own
appointed limits keep.
Oh hear us when we cry to Thee, for those in peril on
the sea.’
As the hymn continued, Anne wiped a tear away. Beth turned to her. ‘Oh Anne, what’s the matter?’
‘This hymn, it always makes me cry. It’s so moving.’
Beth put an arm around her and squeezed her shoulders. ‘It is a rousing hymn. I feel the same way with ‘The Banks of Green Willow’; you know that one by George Butterworth. It reminds me of English meadows and a simpler world.’ Tears welled in her eyes. ‘Oh look at me, you’ve started me off.’
They lent their voices to the singing and, after two more renditions, Hilda clapped her hands and announced an early tea break.
Beth turned to Anne. ‘Right, plan of action. Who shall we target first?’
‘Let’s do Evelyn. She’s the first one we met; we could just ask her how she’s coping.’
Beth looked across. ‘We’re in luck. She’s teamed up with Debra, we can kill two birds with one stone.’
‘We can’t just swoop in with questions.’
‘We won’t. Let’s find a common interest and steer the conversation. Come along.’
They wandered across to the ladies in question and pulled up two wooden chairs. For the next few minutes, the ladies chatted about fashions, food and the community in Polpennarth.
Beth heaved a satisfied sigh. They’d cast the net out; how long should she wait before tugging the imaginary rope? As they spoke, she observed the women. James had taught her that sitting back and watching a person’s body language and mannerisms could speak volumes.
Evelyn appeared a little wary of letting her guard down. She was almost hunched and wrapped her arms close around her body. She clearly didn’t trust strangers and Beth detected a reluctance to discuss her private life. That same fearful look they’d witnessed when first meeting her remained in her eyes and Beth wondered if there was a time when this woman hadn’t been frightened. Did she live in fear? Was her upbringing an unhappy one? It struck her that she had the worries of the world on her shoulders.
As time went on, Debra became more animated - happy to chat and laugh which Beth suddenly felt uncomfortable with considering her husband had gone missing. And how different she seemed to the anxious wife searching for her husband the previous day. This looked like a woman devoid of concern. It was as if she’d been set free. Her eyes were bright, her smile ready and she came across as younger and more confident.
In a natural lull, Beth sat forward. ‘And how are you coping at the moment? Are the police any further forward with their investigations?’
Evelyn retreated further into her shell and studied her hands. ‘They’ve no idea. People have said he must have tripped over and fallen off a cliff or something but my Colm wouldn’t do that.’
‘They’ve drunk together before,’ said Debra. ‘I wonder if they’re making our lives a misery out of spite. Prob’ly holed up with one of the fishermen.’
Evelyn shrank.
Anne sat up with a start. ‘But surely they wouldn’t do that. They’re working men with responsibilities.’
Debra shrugged. ‘Mine spends his money on drink and gambling. I get the bare necessities for food and he moans if I dish up rubbish. What else am I supposed to dish up if he don’t give me enough money to get decent food? I’ve had to take a job at the pharmacy to make ends meet. It don’t give me much more but it’s something.’
Beth asked if she had spoken to the police. ‘I understand they were asking if any drugs had gone missing, sleeping aids, that sort of thing.’
Debra stiffened. ‘I didn’t take ’em. And anyway, nothing’s gone missing. My drugs are on prescription, I don’t steal ’em.’
‘Oh goodness, I wasn’t suggesting that, Debra. Please forgive me.’ But Beth had already noticed an invisible barrier return.
‘Don’t speak so open to strangers, Debra,’ said Evelyn. ‘It’s not right and Bevis won’t thank you for talking about your habits. You know what he’s like.’
Beth tilted her head. ‘What is he like, Debra?’
Debra’s bravado slipped. She fiddled with her wedding ring. ‘He’s a good man. Don’t mind what I say. Don’t you repeat any of this back to anyone. I don’t want him knowing I spoke out of turn.’
‘We wouldn’t dream of it, would we Anne?’
‘Certainly not. I’m a vicar’s wife, I have to keep confidences all the time. I’ve seen similar expressions from other women in your position.’
The ladies glared.
‘I mean that your husbands are proud men and don’t like their lives discussed with strangers. That’s understandable. The women that chat to me simply see me as another female to share their troubles with. It goes no further.’
Evelyn remained quiet but Debra rubbed her forearms and pursed her lips. ‘You couldn’t be further from the truth. There’s nothing—‘
Beth closed her eyes in frustration as Hilda blustered her way in. ‘Having a lovely evening ladies?’
Evelyn forced a smile and made an excuse to move on. Debra asked Anne to forgive her outburst; that she had a lot of worry with Bevis being gone. She squeezed Anne’s hand in apology and followed Evelyn.
Hilda sat down. ‘Bearing up well, those two, don’t you think?’
Beth praised them, stating she’d be in no position to visit her WI so soon if James had been abducted. ‘I’d be sick with worry. If I did attend, I’m not so sure that I could be as happy as Debra; she seems almost
pleased that he’s gone.’
‘But,’ Anne put in, ‘Evelyn looks terribly anxious.’ She shifted forward in her chair. ‘I get the impression things were not good between her and Colm.’
Hilda lowered her voice and explained that many marriages down here were not always a bed of roses. ‘People muddle by. Life is tough down here, especially if you’re connected to the fishing industry. The men are proper men, don’t suffer fools gladly. They work long hours, three hundred and sixty five days a year; all weathers. The women have got to support them, nurse them, be there for them whatever the circumstances. It’s not a life for everyone.’
Beth gave an understanding nod. It must be hard. She and James had already spoken about this. A bleak, stormy day in December would be horrific. Wives seeing their husbands go fishing and steering their boats into waves as tall as the cottages they lived in; in danger of being washed overboard and lost at sea. For those in peril on the sea. It certainly was a poignant hymn and brought home the dangers those men faced every day. She wondered whether she could be a fisherman’s wife and answered the question before coming to the end of it. No. A man coming home from dragging in nets would be a weary, bad-tempered man wanting food, drink and a roaring fire. She could imagine any wife in that position becoming almost servile.
She stumbled out of her thoughts and heard Anne ask Hilda how she and Tristram met.
Hilda, dressed in a plain skirt and blouse, looked up to recollect her thoughts. ‘We went to school together. He was the year above me but I always had a soft spot for him. He reminded me of Tintin with his blond hair and little quiff at the front. It hasn’t changed since the day I met him although, of course, the sun has bleached his hair even whiter; but even that suits him.’
‘You seem very different to Tristram if you don’t mind me saying,’ said Beth.
Hilda whooped. ‘You mean he’s kind, thoughtful and wouldn’t hurt the smallest fly if it landed on you and I’m loud, clumsy and would hit you if I thought it’d do you some good?’ She laughed again. ‘If that’s what you mean then, yes, we are different.’
Beth joined in with a chuckle. ‘I guess that’s what I mean. But you’re well suited.’
Lord James Harrington and the Cornish Mystery Page 12
