The Valley of the Shadow (6 page)

“Two or three miles. But don’t worry about it, I’ll take you in the … Oh, I forgot, I’ve got those dratted wooden cart wheels on the backseat!”

“Wooden cart wheels? I thought those went out with Queen Victoria!”

Eleanor explained her acquisition and the difficulty of extracting it from the Morris Minor. “But Nick and Chaz could get them out. Or, better, I can drive you down one by one and pick up Nick on the way home.”

“That’s very kind of you, but we can easily walk it.”

“It’s a narrow, winding road. I’d hate to think of you walking it in the dark. And I don’t know what we’re going to do about the clothes you lent Megan and Nick.”

“They can’t go home dressed—undressed—the way they were when Chaz and I first saw them! There’s no hurry about returning the clothes.”

“We’ll sort it out tomorrow. Except—Heavens!—Megan can’t drive a police car back to Launceston in nothing but a pullover and knickers. She’ll have to come home with me.”

“You wouldn’t think rescuing a drowning man would lead to so many complications!”

They caught up with the others as the men were manoeuvring the stretcher across the upper bridge. To get round the corners they had to lift it above the railings while two were climbing the steps and the other two walking backwards on the bridge. Then they reversed the process descending the other steps. It all looked very precarious to Eleanor, but they managed it without dropping the stretcher.

Megan stopped in the middle of the bridge, staring past the stretcher party, and said, “Oh, hell!”

SIX

Detective Inspector Scumble stood at the top of the footpath, looking irritated, admittedly nothing out of the ordinary for him. Megan’s boss was a large, solid man whose limited supply of patience was sorely tried by the vagaries of Eleanor’s memory. He failed to understand why—though she always remembered people—she could be relied on to forget where she had put a vital clue, what time she had done whatever it was she had done, and whether she had locked her doors.

She regarded him now with quite as much apprehension as she saw on Megan’s face. She couldn’t see how he could blame either of them for what had happened, nor, indeed, what business it was of his. But she was quite sure he would find a reason.

Eyes narrowed, he glanced at the man on the stretcher as he stood aside to let it pass, exchanging a couple of words with Dave. Then he stepped back to block the path.

“So you got him out alive, Sergeant.”

“Yes, sir. Just.”

“Good job. No sign of identification?”

“No, sir. He was naked.”

“We need to find out who he is. You’ll go with him in the ambulance and stay beside him till he speaks or till he croaks.”

“Sir!” Megan protested. “I’m not properly dressed. I have to go home and change.”

He surveyed her from head to toe. “You’re decenter than half the totty-birds I see in the streets. If it bothers you, I expect they’ll lend you a hospital gown.”

“But if I’m on duty, I ought—”

“Are you complaining about night duty? You’ve had the afternoon off,” Scumble said, most unfairly in Eleanor’s opinion. He took a notebook from his pocket and handed it to her. “Here, I don’t suppose you brought your own. You’d better get moving. Don’t want them to go without you.”

“I’ll bring you clothes at the hospital, Megan,” Eleanor called after her. “Teazle, come! We’re not going with her.”

Megan waved and hurried to climb into the ambulance, where Jim was already revving the engine. Slowly and noisily, it backed up the steep drive.

The inspector turned his gaze on Eleanor. “Well, well, well, I heard you’d taken a spill, Mrs. Trewynn. No serious damage, I trust?”

“No worse than Megan.”

Nick broke in. “Yes, Megan was hurt, climbing onto the rocks. Not badly, but she ought to have her skinned knees seen to.”

“She’s going to the right place, then, isn’t she,” Scumble pointed out, with that exasperating patience that made one feel like an idiot. “Plus she gets an exciting ride in a helicopter.”

“A helicopter?”

“That bloke doesn’t like the look of his patient. He’s going to radio for a Coast Guard helicopter to meet them somewhere there’s room to land. I suppose you think I should give your niece a break before she goes back on duty, but she’s the best person I’ve got available to make sense of anything the victim might say.”

“Victim?” said Nick.

“Of an accident,” the inspector said blandly. Producing a notebook and biro, he turned to Julia. “And who may this young lady be?”

“I’m Julia Merridew.”

“Just where do you come into the picture, Miss Merridew?”

“I saw Megan—Detective Sergeant Pencarrow—rescue the man. She was wonderful! And then I … um…”

“Lent the victim a bit of body warmth,” Nick suggested.

“Exactly,” said Julia with a grateful smile.

Unimpressed, Scumble asked, “Did you see the victim enter the water?”

“Gosh no. We were hiking, Chaz and I, up on the cliffs. We saw Megan dive in and we ran down to see if we could help. Chaz gave Nick a hand to pull the victim out.”

“Chaz?” The inspector eyed the youth, who was hanging back from the group. Eleanor guessed he didn’t want to come within smelling distance.

“Charles.”

“Surname, sir?”

“Avery, if you really have to know.”

“Thank you, sir. It’s just a matter of routine, for my report.”

Chaz didn’t appear to be reassured. He muttered something inaudible.

“I can’t think why a detective inspector should have to write a report about an accident,” Eleanor said crossly, “but if you have any more questions, would you please postpone them. Miss Merridew is cold, as Megan is wearing all her warm clothes—”

“And not much else,” Nick put in, grinning, as he stripped off his anorak and presented it to Julia with a bow.

“—And I’m rather tired. You can come to Port Mabyn and ask me anything you please tomorrow. Not that I know anything. Right now I have to drive Julia and Chaz to Boscastle, one at a time because my car is full of stuff, then come back to pick up Nick—”

“You needn’t worry about fitting people into your car, Mrs. Trewynn,” Scumble interrupted. “Mrs. Stearns is waiting for you up there on the road. I’m sure she’ll consider it her duty to ferry your Good Samaritans to Boscastle, being as how she’s a vicar’s wife.”

Realising her mouth had fallen open, Eleanor closed it far enough to exclaim, “Jocelyn! What on earth is she doing here?”

“She said the vicar passed on a garbled message, from someone whose name he’d forgotten, saying that you were in difficulties in Rocky Valley.”

That sounded like Timothy all right. Eleanor sighed. She had forgotten asking Mr. Wharton to warn Joce not to expect her for supper.

“I’ll go up,” Nick offered, “and tell her what’s going on. Inspector, now that the ambulance has gone, I assume I’m allowed to drive down to save Mrs. Trewynn the slog up the hill?”

“Be my guest.”

“Oh, Nick, do you think the Incorruptible will make it back up this slope?”

“Good point. I’ll ask Mrs. Stearns to come and get you.”

“Thank you, Nick. Here are the keys…” She felt in her pocket. “Oh dear, I must have left them in the car. But that’s all right: Bob Leacock is there. Why don’t you just drive yourself home, Nick, and Jocelyn will bring Teazle and me.”

As Nick trudged off, Scumble turned back to Julia and Chaz. “You two, you’re planning to spend the night in Boscastle? Where can I find you if I need to?”

Chaz scowled.

“At the youth hostel,” Julia said, “if you’re early enough.”

“And if I’m not?”

“We’ll be hiking all day and going home in the evening. You’d better have our phone numbers.” She gave her own.

“I can’t see what you need it for,” Chaz said truculently.

Scumble looked at him, nostrils flaring, nose wrinkling in a meaningful sniff. “Is there any particular reason you choose not to cooperate with the police, sir?”

“Of course not,” he blustered. “I just think—”

“Your trouble is, you don’t think.” Julia reeled off another phone number.

Scumble nodded, wrote it down, and closed his notebook. “I know where to find you, Mrs. Trewynn.” Though his tone was genial, Eleanor felt as much trepidation as if he’d threatened her. “Chances are I shan’t have to bother any of you. Thank you for your help.” With another nod, he set off up the drive after Nick.

Anxiously, Julia asked Eleanor, “Do you think your friend will mind giving us a lift?”

“Not at all.”

And with luck, Joce wouldn’t start scolding Eleanor for getting mixed up in police business again until she had dropped off the young people.

A few minutes later, Jocelyn’s car nosed cautiously down the drive. As Eleanor hoped, she held her questions until they were leaving the youth hostel, an ancient building with a bowed roofline that used to be one of a row of fishermen’s cottages.

As they drove back across the old stone bridge, Jocelyn demanded, “Well?”

“We were just going for a walk.” Eleanor was annoyed to hear the defensive note in her voice. She told her part of the story, glad to have missed seeing the harrowing rescue, so she didn’t have to describe it.

“Hmm. I suppose as he’s apparently an Indian, he wouldn’t care for a pastoral visit. But Timothy and I will pray for him, of course. As soon as we get home, I’m going to take a look at those grazes of yours, to make sure your Mrs. Jellicoe cleaned them thoroughly. Very kind of her. I shall remember her in my prayers, too.”

“Please do.” It couldn’t hurt, Eleanor thought, though a thank-you letter and perhaps a box of Black Magic would probably be better appreciated. “But, Joce, I can’t stay to be doctored. I must take Megan some decent clothes. She’ll be feeling pretty silly wrapped in a hospital gown.”

“I can’t believe That Man sent her off improperly dressed!”

“I can. It doesn’t surprise me in the least. I wonder what I have in the way of skirts that would fit her.”

“Nothing, I imagine. She’s at least three inches taller—”

“Length doesn’t seem to matter these days.”

“—And commensurately larger in the waist and hips. I’m sure I can find something suitable in the shop. Not mini, as she’s on duty. There’s a nice tweed, come to think of it, that would fit perfectly, though it’s rather a bright plaid.”

If Jocelyn Stearns said the skirt would fit perfectly, then it would. She had an inerrant eye for clothes, far more inerrant than her husband’s somewhat vague theology. She was always discreetly but smartly turned out, though she bought almost all her clothes from the LonStar shop.

“I’ll buy it for her. I hope Nick will go with me to Launceston. I don’t like driving at night.”

“I’d take you myself except that there’s a parish meeting tonight that will collapse in chaos if I’m not there to hold the reins. But I’m sure Nicholas will drive you. I’ll say this for him, he’s generally obliging, in spite of his casual dress and manners. You’d better take my car. It’s more reliable than yours.”

“The Incorruptible hasn’t broken down in ages!”

“Therefore it’s the more likely to break down now. I don’t like to think of you stuck on the moor at night.”

“Well, thank you, we’ll certainly get there quicker in yours, especially with the weight of the cart wheels in the back of mine. Iron rims instead of tyres! I can’t think how the poor horses pulled them.”

“You found some cart wheels? Wonderful! We always get a good price for those once they’ve been cleaned up. We’ll take the Incorruptible up to the vicarage tomorrow and Timothy can help unload them.”

Eleanor tried to envision the tall, thin, wispy vicar struggling to extricate the wheels from the backseat. “I think you’d better ask Mr. Irvin from the newsagent’s to help you.”

“Good idea. Now, Eleanor, promise me you’ll have a nurse look at your injuries when you get to the hospital.”

“It’s not necessary, honestly. Mrs. Jellicoe slathered Germolene on everything. Can’t you smell it?”

Jocelyn sniffed. “Now you mention it … I didn’t notice before because that boy smelled of an illegal substance.” Her second sniff expressed her disapproval.

“It’s not likely to do him much harm, unless he’s arrested. The Indians and Chinese use it in all sorts of medical preparations. Speaking of medical, I do hope Mr. Scumble will talk to Rajendra—Dr. Prthnavi—about the man Megan saved. He, if anyone, is likely to know something about him.”

“There aren’t many Indians hereabouts,” Joce agreed. “The restaurant in Camelford, of course. I don’t know of any others, though of course they’re not likely to turn up in church. Oh, Timothy mentioned a new canon at Truro Cathedral who’s Indian. What I can’t see is why a detective inspector has any interest at all in the unfortunate man, except that it was Megan who got him out of the water.”

“Only because his identity is a mystery, I suppose. Naturally that would appeal to a detective. But, you know, it’s all very well Megan sitting by his bedside waiting for him to speak, only what if he doesn’t speak English? It would be much more useful for Rajendra to be there. Except, of course, that India has so many languages … Oh well, in case Scumble doesn’t ask for Rajendra’s help, I’ll talk to him myself.”

“Eleanor! You had much better stay out of it. You know what That Man thinks of your meddling in his crimes.”

“But he’s been at pains to tell us there is no crime.”

“True. Very well, if you insist on going to see Dr. Prthnavi tomorrow, I shall come with you.”

Eleanor would have much preferred to go alone. However, she knew better than to try to dissuade Jocelyn from doing what she chose to perceive as her Christian duty.

“All right,” she said, holding back a sigh. “I’ll ring him up and see when a visit would be convenient.”

SEVEN

Eleanor rang up Rajendra Prthnavi from home while Jocelyn retrieved the chosen skirt from the shop. He was out on a call, but his wife, Lois, a cheerful Birmingham girl who had never lost her Midland accent, assured Eleanor he’d be happy to talk to her that evening.

“And you’ll stay to supper, of course.”

“That’s sweet of you, but a friend will be with me—”

“Any friend of yours is welcome, too.”