Beth held his hand to her mouth and kissed it. ‘I’m glad. I can’t believe I’m hearing it, but I’m glad.’
James settled back as the second coffee arrived. He felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Much as he loved a good mystery, it wasn’t fair on Beth or the Merryweathers to act so irresponsibly. He’d stop asking questions and word would get out that he was simply a tourist. And word spread quickly in such a small community. Whoever he had annoyed would stop targeting them and let them enjoy the rest of their break.
After lunch, they drove back to the south coast and parked in the small village of Marazion, a community that consisted of very little. It did, however, serve as a good staging post for visiting St Michael’s Mount. When the tide was out, it revealed a causeway that connected the island to Marazion, just along from the larger town of Penzance. It was a gusty afternoon and a number of children were flying kites on the wide expanse of sand. Families tucked into picnics and some braved a swim in the chilly English Channel.
James and Beth trod a careful path along the slippery causeway. It was a rocky, cobbled walkway worn away by the ocean and littered with puddles and slimy moss. They entered the tiny harbour to see a row of white-washed terraced houses and a gift shop. The main house with its arched windows and castle turrets loomed above them. James read the pamphlet he’d picked up and told Beth it had been in the same family for centuries.
‘Similar to Harrington’s then.’
‘Except they’ve been here since the 11th century and we Harringtons from around the 17th. There’s a priory here and apparently this is where the first beacon was lit to warn of the coming of the Spanish Armada.’
They spent an enjoyable hour exploring the gardens and strolling around the harbour. A quick peek at the tidal times indicated they needed to return if they wanted to walk back along the causeway. They opted to meander back and visit the small pub opposite. It had a long walled terrace overlooking the Mount and afforded views all the way along to Penzance.
They ordered a half of mild each and took in the panoramic view until a familiar face approached. ‘Afternoon.’
James held a hand out. ‘Jonah, how lovely to see you. Do you want to join us?’
‘Just for a few minutes. I’m meeting someone but I saw you here and thought I’d come over.’
Beth moved her handbag. ‘Are you being a tourist?’
Jonah sat next to her and explained that he was only open in the evenings. ‘Once I’ve got the food in, there’s not much more to do. I’m actually going into Newlyn to pick up some fish there.’
Newlyn was a fishing community that James had heard of. It had a bigger fish market than Polpennarth and was also another area renowned for artists.
‘Fish doesn’t take long to prepare. The simpler the better so I haven’t got to spend loads of time in the kitchen. So, yes, I suppose you could say I’m being a tourist. Sometimes you don’t realise what’s on your doorstep.’
Beth agreed and explained that they rarely visited the sights in London. ‘We only do that if people come and visit us from further afield. I guess it’s the same for everyone.’
‘It was the same when I lived in London. I had the Tower of London just down the road and never went there once.’
James asked if he spent much time exploring Cornwall before moving there.
‘Yes, I came down here two or three times a year for about three years. There were some things that happened at work that caused me to re-evaluate my position; well, my life really. Work concerns, love interests, that sort of thing. It all went downhill for me and the best thing I could do was walk away from it.’
James sipped his mild. This was clearly the business Bert had dug up with the attack on his boss and the likely affair with the boss’s daughter. He placed his drink down. ‘And have you been successful in looking for love down here?’
‘Not really.’
Beth slipped her sunglasses down and to James’ bemusement flirted with the restaurant owner. ‘Surely you must have had a holiday romance. Everyone has those.’
Jonah shifted in his seat. ‘I’ve had one or two yes.’
‘Anyone we know?’
He cleared his throat. ‘You don’t know her. We had a bit of a fling when I was looking for a place down here. Nice girl but by the time I’d got back she was married.’ He played with a beer mat. ‘She was engaged when I met her so I knew it wouldn’t come to anything.’
Beth frowned. ‘That’s running a risk in such a small community.’
Jonah agreed that it was, adding that he felt awkward whenever the couple were in his vicinity. ‘They don’t come into the restaurant. Can’t afford it but I steer clear of the husband.’
James asked if the husband had found out.
‘He never said anything to me. He had no proof. Ev-.’ He stopped himself. ‘She wouldn’t have said anything, I’m sure. He had a suspicion but that was it. Avoids me when he can and isn’t the friendliest person in the world when we do have to speak.’
‘And the single ladies here are a little sparse, aren’t they?’
‘I’m not an angel, Lord Harrington, and I’ve had one or two one-night stands with married ladies.’
Beth gawped. He held a palm up.
‘Some of the fishermen’s wives see me as a trendy gentleman from London. I told you I was called a beatnik when I first arrived. I was seen as exotic, well-read and worldly. It attracted naive women and I can’t deny that I took advantage of that.’
As he and Beth spoke, James pondered the man’s history. He’d nearly let it slip that Evelyn wouldn’t admit to untoward behaviour. This man Bevis, although not a fisherman, was away sometimes at the markets. He wondered if Debra Allan was also a conquest of Jonah’s. Were things getting a little uncomfortable for Jonah Quinn? Had Colm and Bevis discovered his roaming ways and challenged him? It would certainly give Jonah a reason for wanting to deal with them. He had a violent streak - that was already proven. That fearful look that Evelyn and Debra had - was it because they knew the truth was about to surface?
Jonah checked his watch. ‘I’d best get on. Enjoy the rest of your day.’
James watched him walk toward his van. He turned to Beth. ‘What did you make of him?’
Beth described him as a rogue but could quite see how young, lonely wives would have their heads turned by him. ‘He is a handsome man and clearly has an eye for the ladies. It’s obvious that it was Evelyn he was talking about.’
‘Yes, he nearly let that slip, didn’t he? I was wondering if he’d snared young Debra too.’
‘It wouldn’t surprise me. He seems to know when the menfolk are away. Are you going to let the Inspector know about this?’
‘Of course. He may already know but I’ve a feeling that Bert was able to delve much deeper into Quinn’s life than any policeman could.’
They watched as Jonah did a three-point turn and then gaped, open-mouthed, as he pulled away.
James met Beth’s astonished look. ‘Did you see who got in the passenger seat?’
‘Yes,’ said Beth, ‘Debra Allan.’
James watched the van disappear. No wonder Debra had perked up.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The farm on the cliff-tops was open to the elements and there was quite a breeze blowing in from the ocean. The sea had turned from a mill pond to a constant motion and even at this height, they heard the splash of waves on the shoreline below. Inspector Wormstone arrived shortly after them and they made themselves comfortable in the garden. Beth suggested the table by the fence which was a natural suntrap, shielding them from the worst of the breeze.
James ordered cream tea for three and studied Wormstone as he made himself comfortable. He could imagine him in the London force. He dressed in a dark suit, a white shirt and a black tie. He had a felt trilby that wasn’t worn in the heat but he carried it with him. Even in this weather, the man kept his jacket on. His shoes were polished and he had an educated look about him. He made some small talk
with Beth about holidays and asked what her favourite destination was.
‘Usually the last place I visited, Inspector. Polpennarth is exquisite and we’ve been so lucky with the weather. But if you were to ask me to put everything in the mix, I think that Zermatt, in Switzerland, is high on my list.’
‘Winter or summer?’
‘Winter.’
‘You ski?’
‘Not terribly well, I never seem to progress further than the gentle slopes but the whole ambience of a Swiss village is appealing. Have you travelled, Inspector?’
Wormstone hadn’t travelled as much as he’d have liked. But he did enjoy his annual breaks and tended to opt for walking holidays. ‘I’ve travelled the length and breadth of the United Kingdom; from the highlands of Scotland to the cliff-tops of Cornwall. I fancy the idea of skiing but I think I’d be an accident waiting to happen.’
Beth poured the tea and James held up the plate of scones for the Inspector to take one.
‘This is good of you,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t expecting a cream tea.’ He cut the scone in half and scrutinised James. ‘And you paid for dinner the other night. Could be deemed as suspicious but I assume you have me here for a reason, Lord Harrington.’
James allowed a quick smile. ‘I do, Inspector, and I haven’t been entirely honest with you.’
The Inspector frowned and his eyes darted from James to Beth and back again. ‘You’re not confessing to kidnapping, are you?’
James laughed. ‘Good Lord, no.’
‘I was joking.’ He layered his scone with jam and cream. ‘So what do you want to divulge?’
‘I’m a bit of an amateur sleuth and—‘
‘So I’ve heard.’
Beth sat up with a start. ‘How did you know that?’
‘The locals talk. I understand you’ve been, how can I put it, interested in the crimes committed but the questions you ask are not the sort a tourist would think of. Your questions have been considered; as if you’re trying to establish motive and opportunity.’
‘I was trying to do that, yes.’
‘Was? Do I take it you’re no longer pursuing enquiries?’
James crossed his legs and gave the inspector a brief background to his hobby. The crimes he’d helped solve and his friendship with DCI Lane. Wormstone was delighted to hear about George and for a while the conversation turned toward their time together in the Yard. Wormstone confirmed what James already knew; that George was one of the best detectives he’d come across and a gentleman too.
‘We’ve walked off the trail, your Lordship. I asked you to confirm that you’re not looking into things anymore.’
‘I’m not. We had two threats against us over the last twenty four hours and I don’t intend to get us killed.’
He felt Beth’s eyes bore into him. ‘Two? When was... oh, the brakes.’
James manoeuvred his chair closer and held her hand. ‘Inspector, last night we were almost mown down by a man paid to frighten us and this morning I discovered the brake-line on the Austin had been tampered with. I feel fortunate to be sitting here at the moment.’
Wormstone held a palm up. ‘Right, let’s go back. This is the result of things you know. An attempt made because of the questions you’ve been asking. Tell me what you know and give me the finale later.’ He reached inside his pocket for a notepad and pencil. ‘Who did you speak to, what did you ask?’
They listed their contacts in the order they met them: Desmond and Vivian, Gretchen Kettel, Bidevin, Evelyn and Hilda, PC Innes, Jonah Quinn, Tristram, Hans, Debra, Vic and Flora, Kerry Sheppard, Enoch and Edith.
James assured him he hadn’t been intrusive with his questions; that he’d simply slipped the odd enquiry in here and there. Beth added that she’d met several members of the WI but had only asked questions of the people on their list.
Wormstone finished listing the names. ‘Right, now, what do you think about all these people?’
‘Our hosts are a delightful couple from Torquay who I believe have nothing to do with this. Viv’s a bit of a gossip and Desmond is a normal chap making a living.’
The Inspector glanced at his list. ‘Gretchen Kettel.’ He looked up. ‘I think we can cross her off the list, don’t you?’
‘Not so quickly, Inspector,’ said Beth. ‘When we saw her recently, we mentioned the kidnapping and she hinted that Colm and Bevis were bad men.’
‘You’re right, darling. We asked her what she meant and she said something about Evelyn and Debra having lost their oomph and we were to look into that.’
‘And did you? Look into why they’d lost their oomph?’
‘That may come out later in our thinking. Can you hold fire on that one?’
The Inspector took a sip of his tea and moved on. ‘Bidevin. Thoughts?’
‘You know he threw Colm out of the pub recently; and there is some bad blood over the ownership of their Cornish pasty recipe.’
‘A frequent occurrence from what I hear. Colm is definitely in the bad books. He has no proof about this recipe business.’
‘He appears a thoroughly nice chap but he did warn me off.’ James topped up their teas. ‘I wanted to ask him about the lights I’d seen off shore.’
‘Lights?’
James realised he’d overlooked that part of the story. He gave the Inspector an account of the lights he’d seen at eleven o’clock every night. ‘They were difficult to see but I believe they were just off shore.’
‘Go on.’
He outlined the story about the ghosts of fisherman and how they lured people who saw them to some kind of unpleasantness.
‘And that was him warning you off?’
‘No, not exactly. I’d asked what it meant and Bidevin said it means you’re asking too many questions.’
Wormstone raised his eyebrows and jotted a few notes down. ‘And what did you make of Evelyn Fiske?’
‘A frightened woman,’ said Beth. ‘There’s something deep-rooted there. I do feel she has a story, Inspector. That fear isn’t a reaction to a kidnapping. It’s something ingrained.’
‘I know what you mean. A bit of a nervous sparrow, so to speak. What did you make of Hilda?’
James and Beth pitched in with alternating descriptions: assertive, bossy, forthright, organised. They said she could appear unsympathetic but added that they felt she had an underlying sensitivity.
James elaborated on the sympathy side. ‘She’s stuck by those women, Evelyn and Debra, like a protective mother hen. But she said something rather odd when I first observed her with Evelyn. She’d brought her a drink and said something about things looking up for her.’
‘And,’ Beth put in, ‘she described Bevis as a fool and told Debra she was probably better off without him.’
‘The rumour mill is that she has something to do with these kidnappings. Are you able to let on?’
‘Divulging information is just the one-way format, your Lordship.’
They signalled their understanding.
‘That brings us to Jonah Quinn,’ said Wormstone.
Beth sat up with a start. ‘Now he is interesting. Did you know he stabbed his boss when he worked in London?’
Wormstone sat back and observed the pair of them. ‘Now how on earth did you find that out?’
‘You mean you know?’ said James.
‘I’m a policeman, with links to the Yard. It only takes a phone call to find these things out. How did you find out?’
‘I have a friend who appears to know everyone; he put out a few feelers.’ He leant forward. ‘He did find out a little snippet that you may not know about.’
The Inspector waited.
‘When he decided to move down this way, he spent a holiday down here looking for a place to live.’
‘And?’
‘Turns out he had a bit of a fling with the current Mrs Fiske, although it was before she married. We bumped into him earlier.’ He went through their conversation. ‘And young Debra hopped in the van before he dro
ve off. Perhaps he’s carried on with Debra and Edith too, although I can’t quite see him with the latter.’
For once, James was pleased to see that he’d enlightened the Inspector. Beth added that Debra, although fearful initially, appeared to have a spring in her step. ‘Perhaps that’s the oomph that Gretchen spoke of.’
‘That is interesting.’ He flipped a page over on his notepad and scribbled.
‘And,’ continued James, ‘Jonah thought Kerry Sheppard had something to do with the kidnappings.’
Wormstone appeared to ignore this and checked the list again.
‘Tristram.’
Beth melted. ‘Adorable. A man with such sensitivity and kindness. It almost flows from him. When he was showing us that seal he looked positively gentle and loving.’
‘I say, steady on Beth, he’s not Cary Grant.’
‘He doesn’t have to be; he’s beautiful on the inside. He showed us around the seal sanctuary and we had lunch with him up on the cliff-top. His whole life seems to revolve around the Sanctuary. I see him more as an animal man, not a people person. I can see him kidnapping seals to keep them safe but I can’t imagine he gives two hoots about people.’
‘Have you interviewed him, Inspector? Does he have a blot on his perfect landscape?’ The look he received reminded him that questioning was a one-way process. ‘Who’s next?’
‘Hans.’
‘Ah yes. Haven’t had much to do with him but Tris did say that he’d had a run in with Colm about his fishing methods. There is some animosity there.’
The Inspector agreed and said that Hans had had quite a quarrel with both Colm and Bevis. ‘Pretty passionate on animal cruelty. He and Tristram. Can’t see that it would warrant kidnapping though.’ He studied his list. ‘Debra Allan.’
Lord James Harrington and the Cornish Mystery Page 15
