Buried in the Country Page 8

  “It’s a terrific climb across to the island and up to the ruins,” Eleanor pointed out quickly. “Quite daunting.”

  “Did you ever visit the ruins of Great Zimbabwe, Mrs. Trewynn?” Tariro asked.

  “No, I never had an opportunity. From what I heard, they dwarf King Arthur’s castle. Have you been there?”

  “No. The settlers claim it was constructed by Europeans, but archaeologists say the city was built a thousand years ago, half a millennium before Brasenose was founded in 1509. There were no whites in my country then.”

  Gina returned to safer ground with a question about the history of his college, and thence gently to college sports, in which he was active.

  Eleanor noticed that Nontando and Tariro never spoke directly to each other. Sir Edward appeared to be aware of the coolness between them, at one point glancing from one to the other with a slight frown. No doubt he put it down to their tribal and political differences. Eleanor decided she could warn him of their personal antagonism without betraying Nontando’s confidence.

  Whether she could lessen the tension was another matter. She would need time to talk to each of them, time to discover whether the breach could be mended, and if so, how to tackle it.

  She was given no time that evening. After dinner, Sir Edward “suggested” that his wife and Eleanor would be more comfortable taking their coffee upstairs. He was going to hold a short preliminary meeting with the two students, with Payne taking notes.

  “Discussing what to discuss tomorrow,” Gina said with a touch of acid as she followed Eleanor up. “Talk, talk, talk. Eleanor, would you mind frightfully if I deserted you for half an hour? I feel a headache coming on and perhaps I can stave it off if I lie down for a while. There’s a shelf of books in the sitting room, quite a varied collection that I expect people have left over the years.”

  “Why don’t you go straight to bed? I’ll make your excuses to the others.”

  “Would you? I’m sure I’ll feel right as rain in the morning.”

  “You’d better be. I’d be bound to make a mess of giving orders to Cook and Norton.”

  “Now that I doubt, but I think I’ll take your advice. Good night.” Gina went on up the next flight of stairs.

  “Sleep well.”

  Eleanor went into the sitting room. She gave the bookshelf a desultory look, not taking in the titles. Norton brought her coffee. She sipped, and decided a decent coffeepot was one thing the tower’s kitchen lacked.

  What she really wanted was to talk to Megan. Surely no one would be suspicious of a little old lady having a chat with another guest at the hotel? She would just pop through the connecting door and see whether Megan was in one of the public rooms. She wouldn’t go so far as to ask for her room number. It would look like a casual meeting.

  Eleanor made sure she had the key and enough money on her to buy a drink, or a cup of coffee. Perhaps the main hotel had a better coffee maker.

  “Stay!” she said sternly to Teazle, who gave her an injured look, sighed, and stretched out on the hearthrug. Eleanor went back downstairs and through the connecting door, careful to lock it behind her.

  The main lobby wasn’t the functional hall with a desk that she’d expected. It was a large room with a confusion of arches and a bewilderment of comfortable furniture set out in small groups round low tables. Tired and feeling her age, Eleanor peered round, hoping to spot Megan. She saw signs to the bar lounge and the dining room. Her niece might be tucked away in either, or up in her room.

  But no, here she came, threading her way between the tables, looking very pretty in a peach-coloured jersey and chocolate brown skirt.

  “Aunt Nell, is everything all right? Did you manage to escape Sir Edward’s toils? Where’s Teazle?”

  “Asleep by the fire, I hope.”

  “We’re having coffee. Come and join us.” She took Eleanor’s arm.

  “Oh dear, I forgot you have a colleague with you. Are you sure he won’t mind?”

  “He’d better not, if he knows what’s good for him. Anyway, you know him.”

  “Your friend Ken Faraday? How nice!”

  “That’s one way of looking at it,” Megan said wryly. “His boss has annointed him expert on this remote corner of the realm.”

  Faraday stood as they approached. “Mrs. Trewynn, delighted to see you again. Will you have coffee?”

  “Yes, please.”

  A waiter appeared at his elbow, and a moment later a second pot of coffee appeared on the table. Megan poured a cup for Eleanor. It was a vast improvement on the Bellowes’ cook’s concoction.

  “You’re staying here, Mrs. Trewynn? You live just down the road, don’t you?”

  “Yes, not far. Sir Edward invited me to … join his party. I’m staying in the tower.”

  “May I ask what your part is in this gallimaufrey?”

  Eleanor consulted Megan with a glance.

  “It’s all right, Aunt Nell. Ken is part of the ‘gallimaufrey.’ I’m curious, too. I didn’t expect to find you here!”

  “It’s because of my experience all over the world.” She tried to explain her role. Put into words, it sounded muddled and nebulous, but then, she thought, Sir Edward’s purpose was also pretty nebulous. After what Nontando had told her, she wouldn’t give much for his chance of success.

  Naturally, she didn’t mention Nontando’s story to Megan and Ken.

  “You two brought Nontando and Tariro here, I gather?”

  “Glorified chauffeurs, that’s us,” Ken joked.

  “And would-be spy catchers,” Megan added. “We’re here to watch out for nosy strangers.”

  “Though we haven’t been told what to do with them if we find them. What do you think, Mrs. Trewynn, is it likely that someone from the … opposition, I suppose we can call them, will turn up, trying to discover what’s going on?”

  Eleanor was in a quandary. Though she didn’t really believe Ian Smith’s sympathisers were dogging Sir Edward’s footsteps, it wasn’t for her to say so. And suppose he was right? Well, suppose he was right, would it matter? He himself doubted that Nontando and Tariro would be endangered.

  “I have no idea,” she said. “Have you seen any suspicious characters?”

  “Yes,” they said in unison.

  “You have? Oh dear!”

  “They’re in the restaurant at present,” said Ken.

  “But they look more like common crooks than international agents.” Megan described the two men. “At least we have more idea of what we’re looking for, now that you’ve clarified things, Aunt Nell.”

  “Oh dear, have I said more than I ought? I assumed the situation had been explained to you.”

  “Don’t worry.” Ken grinned. “We won’t give you away.”

  “I’m sure I didn’t mention Z—the country involved.”

  “Tariro told me that much in the car,” said Megan. “I expect it was an oversight that we didn’t get the whole story. We’re police officers, after all. If he didn’t trust us, he could have had his own people do the job, or a couple of spooks.”

  “Spooks?”

  “American slang, Mrs. Trewynn. The real spies.”

  “In this case, anti-spies. Special Branch, or even MI5. Not that MI5 would be interested without a Cold War connection.”

  But there was a Cold War connection, Eleanor thought. Sir Edward said ZANU and ZAPU were supported by the Soviets and the Chinese. She had best not mention it to these two, however. “That reminds me, dear, was there a particular reason you were looking for me earlier? At home, I mean?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact.” Megan hesitated, glancing at Ken.

  “I can take a hint as well as the next man,” he said genially. “I’ll make myself scarce.”

  “Just a few minutes.”

  “I expect Sir Edward will send for me soon.”

  “Oh, all right. Thanks. Always the gentleman,” she said sotto voce as he went off towards the bar, “even when he was being a right sod.”<
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  Eleanor was a little anxious by that time. “What is it, Megan? What on earth did you want to see me for, so badly that you even tackled Jocelyn?”

  “Mrs. Stearns was actually very helpful, apart from not knowing where you were. She was quite worried about you. Shouldn’t you phone her and at least assure her you’re all right, even if you can’t say where you are or why?”

  “I ought to have told her I was going to be away for the weekend. Sir Edward had me in such a tiswas over security.… I’ll ring her when I go back to the tower. Now, for pity’s sake—”

  “As it happens I was looking for information about a missing person. He probably has just as good a reason for being missing as you do, and normally we—the police, that is—we wouldn’t be interested unless there was something fishy about his absence. We looked into it only because it was reported by a solicitor.”

  “In Port Mabyn? Roland or Alan?”

  “I knew they’d be friends of yours.”

  “I talked to Alan Freeth just the other day. Such a nice, helpful man. One of their clients disappeared?”

  “Not a client, one of the lawyers. Mr. Freeth, in fact. Did you notice anything odd about him when you saw him?”

  “No, not at all,” said Eleanor, puzzled. “But it was business, not a friendly chat. He’s vanished? Poor Roland must be distraught.”

  “He is. That’s why I decided I’d better talk to you and make sure I hadn’t … imagined things.”

  “Joce clarified things for you?”

  “Yes, and pretty much confirmed my impression that Bulwer reported Freeth’s absence for emotional reasons, not because he was seriously concerned that he was in danger. I covered the financial side of things with him. No money missing, according to Bulwer, though if Freeth doesn’t turn up reasonably soon, their clients’ accounts will have to be audited, I imagine.”

  “Alan Freeth wouldn’t steal!” Eleanor said indignantly. “He’s not that sort of person at all.”

  “Aunt Nell, there isn’t a ‘sort’ of person who steals. Anyway, I wasn’t accusing him. We’d be hunting for him in earnest if he was suspected of theft.”

  “You’re not— Your colleagues aren’t hunting for him?”

  “When a grown man walks out of his own volition, we can’t—” She stopped as Ken came up to them.

  “Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to let you know, Megan, that I’m off to see Sir Edward. I don’t suppose he’ll keep me long.”

  “All right.”

  “I’d better go back with you,” said Eleanor. “Gina—Lady Bellowe—went to bed early, and if Sir Edward is occupied with you, I ought to be there to keep Nontando and Tariro from each other’s throats.”

  “Like that, is it?” Ken asked. “It doesn’t augur well for the peace talks, or whatever he has in mind. Megan, our pair are in the bar now.”

  “Well, I’d be too conspicuous going in there alone, so—”

  “Yeah, it’s not the sort of bar that cares for lone females hanging about.”

  “Oh, shut up! My friendly barman wouldn’t mind, but the crooks might take note. I’ll see them if they come out.”

  “Perhaps I should take a peek at them,” Eleanor suggested. “I’d like to know who I’m watching out for.”

  “No!” they said as one.

  “The last thing we need is for them to realise they’re being watched,” Ken added.

  “Let alone for them to be aware of your interest, Aunt Nell,” said Megan. “Whatever they’re after, we don’t want them after you, too.”

  TEN

  Nick, meanwhile, had been invited to have supper with Freeth. Even if the other options had not been to plunge back out into the storm or to go hungry, he would have accepted. Though he couldn’t seriously suspect the lawyer of spying on Bellowe, he was curious about his relationship with Mrs. Mason.

  “It won’t be much of a meal,” Freeth apologised. “Rosie—Mrs. Mason—is a good cook, but she’s not feeling at all well. I made her go to bed. Cooking is not my forte, but I can open a tin of soup and make some sandwiches, if that will do you.”

  Nick offered to help, so he stirred the cream of mushroom soup while Freeth rummaged in fridge and larder for sandwich ingredients and sliced a loaf. Then Nick put sandwiches together while Freeth took a tray with soup and crustless bread and butter up to Mrs. Mason.

  The men ate in the kitchen, between the crumbs and smears of preparation at one end and Nick’s sketchpad at the other. After an exchange of inconsequential remarks about the storm and the likelihood of flooding in Port Mabyn, Nick said tentatively, “I hope my unceremonious arrival didn’t upset Mrs. Mason. I’d hate to think I’m responsible for her … attack.”

  “Good lord, no, not at all. I’m afraid her condition is serious, even though it’s not always apparent.” Freeth looked at his sandwich with unseeing eyes. “There’s nothing to be done, it seems, except try to relieve the symptoms.”

  “I’m sorry.” Chest pain and breathlessness, he remembered. However, his grandmother had survived in that condition for many years, long enough to cut him out of her will for disgracing the family by becoming a professional artist. “You’ve known Mrs. Mason for a long time, you said?”

  “More precisely, we knew each other a long time ago, in London. We were both Londoners. We’d lost touch, but when she needed a lawyer, she wrote to me. It’s not hard to find a particular solicitor, as long as he’s in active practice.”

  “You’re all on official lists, I suppose. The Law Society and all that. A good, solid, respectable profession. Does it run in your family?”

  “No. My forebears were for the most part good respectable clergymen, but far from solid in the financial sense. My father pinched and scraped to pay for my articles.”

  “Which world did Mrs. Mason come from?” Nick asked idly, more to keep Freeth talking than because he cared. The man had an interesting face. Nick pushed aside his dishes—empty—and reached for the sketchbook. “Law or religion?”

  “Neither.” Freeth was amused. “Or rather, the wrong side of the law. Not that I knew it at the time, not to begin with. Nor did Rosie, in all the time I knew her. I’d swear to that. Her mother died when she was in her teens and she kept house for the old man.” He stood up. “I’ll go and get her tray.” He glanced at Nick’s sketch in passing but didn’t comment.

  After all, what could one do with a face using a hard pencil? Nick hadn’t liked to return to Mrs. Mason’s desk for charcoal when she was ill upstairs. Dissatisfied, he turned back to the almost architectural drawing he had been doing of the kitchen. Its stark simplicity had a certain pleasing quality, but he couldn’t take it much further. He might as well start on the washing up.

  * * *

  “Doing all right, then, are you, Pencarrow?” DCI Scumble’s call had come through just after Aunt Nell and Ken went off to the tower. “Nasty bit of weather for the drive?”

  “Very nasty, sir. I managed.”

  “The forecast says it’ll blow over by morning. Should be dry by the time you go down the village to see if there’s any gossip about nosy strangers.”

  “I think Sir Edward expects us to stick around, sir.”

  “Rubbish! I bet all the hotel workers are foreigners, aren’t they?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “So what do you expect to get out of them? Talk to the locals. By the way, did the Boy Wonder turn up?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Bright eyed and bushy-tailed as ever, I suppose. Is he being a pain in the … neck?” The guv’nor no longer guarded his tongue as carefully as when Megan first joined his team, but he still sometimes came over mealy-mouthed.

  “Not too bad. Just occasionally annoying.”

  “And what about the pinstripes and bowler brigade that requisitioned your services?”

  “I’ve only spoken to the top man for a couple of minutes, sir. His assistant is one of the two I picked up, but he barely said a word. The other passenger sat beside me.
He was quite chatty.”

  “He’s not a bureaucrat. They’re a cagey tribe. Beware of bureaucrats, Pencarrow. I’ve always found it a sound maxim.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “This was the student? Did he let on what’s going on?”

  “Not exactly, sir, but I learned a bit from who he is and where he comes from. I’d better not tell you—”

  “Dammit, Pencarrow, those pen-pushers have infected you!”

  “—on an open line, sir. I’ll give you a full report when I get back, of course.” Megan hesitated. “I … um … perhaps I ought to mention that my aunt has turned up, too. As well as DS Faraday.”

  “Mrs. Trewynn? Now why does that make me think this is going to end in chaos?”

  “I can’t imagine,” Megan said crossly. “Sir Edward wouldn’t keep asking for her help if she wasn’t helpful.”

  “Doubtless international intrigue is already so complicated, your auntie can’t make it any worse. As long as she stays out of CaRaDoC business—”

  “There’s something else I’d better tell you, sir.…”

  The response was a loud groan. “Don’t tell me Auntie’s already on the trail of a murderer!”

  Megan was tempted to tell him not to be ridiculous, but in spite of its irritations, she wanted to keep her job. “Nothing to do with Aunt Nell, sir.” She told him about being followed—possibly—from Launceston and the arrival of the two unprepossessing men at the King Arthur Hotel. “Ken—DS Faraday and I agree that they look fishy, but not the type to go in for espionage.”

  “Can’t arrest people for looking fishy, more’s the pity.”

  “We can keep an eye on them, though, and I was thinking I ought to notify the local man. PC Yarrow—he was very helpful with that fraudulent medium. I’ll go out in the morning and get their licence plate number.”

  “Call it in to the nick and we’ll run it, but leave it to me to get in touch with Yarrow. On second thoughts, you’d better get that number now and ring me back, in case they’re planning to rob the hotel and scarper in the small hours.”

  “Sir, it’s—”

  “Raining. Yes, I know. And you’re a police officer, Pencarrow, not a Victorian debutante.”