Cold Case in Nuala (The Inspector de Silva Mysteries Book 10) Read online

  An Inspector de Silva Mystery

  Cold Case in Nuala

  Harriet Steel

  Contents

  Kindle edition 2021

  Author’s Note and Acknowledgments

  Characters who appear regularly in the Inspector de Silva Mysteries

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Other books by Harriet Steel

  Kindle edition 2021

  The author or authors assert their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author or authors of this work. All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Author’s Note and Acknowledgments

  Welcome to the tenth book in my Inspector de Silva mystery series. Like the earlier ones, this is a self-contained story but, wearing my reader’s hat, I usually find that my enjoyment of a series is deepened by reading the books in order and getting to know major characters well. With that in mind, I have included thumbnail sketches of those featuring here who took a major part in previous stories. I have also reprinted this introduction, with apologies to those who have already read it.

  Several years ago, I had the great good fortune to visit the island of Sri Lanka, the former Ceylon. I fell in love with the country straight away, awed by its tremendous natural beauty and the charm and friendliness of its people. I had been planning to write a detective series for some time and when I came home, I decided to set it in Ceylon in the 1930s, a time when British Colonial rule created interesting contrasts, and sometimes conflicts, with traditional culture. Thus Inspector Shanti de Silva and his friends were born.

  I owe many thanks to everyone who helped with this book. My editor, John Hudspith, was, as usual, invaluable, Julia Gibbs did a marvellous job of proofreading the manuscript, and Jane Dixon Smith designed another excellent cover and layout for me. Praise from the many readers who tell me that they have enjoyed previous books in this series and want to know what Inspector de Silva and his friends get up to next encourages me to keep going. Above all, heartfelt thanks go to my husband, Roger for his unfailing encouragement and support, to say nothing of his patience when Inspector de Silva’s world distracts me from this one.

  Apart from well-known historical figures, all characters in the book are fictitious. Nuala is also fictitious although loosely based on the hill town of Nuwara Eliya. Any mistakes are my own.

  Characters who appear regularly in the Inspector de Silva Mysteries

  Inspector Shanti de Silva. He began his police career in Ceylon’s capital city, Colombo, but in middle age he married and accepted a promotion to inspector in charge of the small force in the hill town of Nuala. Likes: a quiet life with his beloved wife, his car, good food, his garden. Dislikes: interference in his work by his British masters, formal occasions.

  Sergeant Prasanna. Nearly thirty and married with a daughter. He’s doing well in his job and starting to take more responsibility. Likes: cricket and is exceptionally good at it.

  Constable Nadar. A few years younger than Prasanna. Diffident at first, he’s gaining in confidence. Married with two boys. Likes: his food, making toys for his sons. Dislikes: sleepless nights.

  Jane de Silva. She came to Ceylon as a governess to a wealthy colonial family and met and married de Silva a few years later. A no-nonsense lady with a dry sense of humour. Likes: detective novels, cinema, and dancing. Dislikes: snobbishness.

  Archie Clutterbuck. Assistant government agent in Nuala and as such responsible for administration and keeping law and order in the area. Likes: his Labrador, Darcy; fishing, hunting big game. Dislikes: being argued with, the heat.

  Florence Clutterbuck. Archie’s wife, a stout, forthright lady. Likes: being queen bee, organising other people. Dislikes: people who don’t defer to her at all times.

  William Petrie. Government agent for the Central Province and therefore Archie Clutterbuck’s boss. A charming exterior hides a steely character. Likes: getting things done. Dislikes: inefficiency.

  Doctor David Hebden. Doctor for the Nuala area. Under his professional shell, he’s rather shy. Likes: cricket. Dislikes: formality.

  Emerald Hebden (née Watson). She arrived in Nuala with a touring British theatre company, decided to stay and subsequently married David Hebden. She’s a popular addition to local society and a good friend to Jane. Her full story is told in Offstage in Nuala.

  Charlie Frobisher. A junior member of staff in the Colonial Service. A personable young man who is tipped to do well. Likes: sport and climbing mountains.

  Chapter 1

  A thrill of anticipation ran through Inspector Shanti de Silva’s veins as he and his wife Jane mingled with the crowd. The air smelled of petrol and vibrated with the revving of powerful engines being tested before the race. It was the day of Nuala’s famous car rally, the Hill Country Challenge, and an area of the bazaar had been cleared of its usual stalls to turn it into the starting point. Celebrated as one of the most exciting events that the Hill Country had to offer, the rally took place once every four years and was customarily held in January when dry weather could be relied upon. Entrants came not only from the island. They also arrived from India and even further afield, attracted by the rally’s prestige and the hope of winning the coveted trophy.

  This would be the third time de Silva had attended, the first being shortly after he arrived in Nuala to take up his post as head of the Nuala police. Familiarity would, however, never dull the excitement he felt at the sight of so many magnificent cars – Bentley, Maserati, Riley, Lagonda, Talbot, Alpha Romeo, and Bugatti – and the famous names ran through his head as he admired immaculate paintwork and gleaming chrome sparkling in the afternoon sunshine. It had always pleased him that one of the first Ceylonese on the island to own a car was named Silva. He felt, in a small way, that it linked him to the history of the automobile in his country.

  Of course, there had been huge advances since then. In the early years, there were barely two dozen cars on Ceylon’s roads; now it was not so remarkable to own a car, although it was still the preserve of the better off. He was lucky that his job enabled him to afford his beloved Morris, but despite the fact that she would always have a special place in his heart, she couldn’t compare with the cars assembled today. He had to admit that they were thoroughbreds.

  ‘Gracious, how crowded it is,’ remarked Jane. ‘And what a noise the cars make.’

  ‘But a glorious one. Like a pride of lions calling to each other. And it will be even louder once they’re off.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said a familiar voice behind them. ‘I hope it won’t become too much louder. I have one of my headaches coming on.’

  They turned to see Florence Clutterbuck. For once, she was not carrying her little household mop of a dog, Angel. No doubt he would enjoy the occasion e
ven less than his mistress claimed to be doing. De Silva’s boss, Archie Clutterbuck, was also bereft of his usual shadow, his black Labrador, Darcy, but in contrast he seemed to be in his element. He looked smart in cream trousers and a navy blazer that had the badge of the Royal Automobile Association of Ceylon embroidered in red and gold on the breast pocket.

  ‘Good morning to you, de Silva! And Mrs de Silva! A pleasure to see you, ma’am. Marvellous turn out, eh? My money’s on the Bentley to win.’ Archie gestured to a huge black beast of a car that dwarfed its rivals. He glanced at his wife. ‘Not that I’m really a betting man, of course, but today’s a special occasion.’

  ‘Indeed it is,’ said Florence in a sudden change of tone that, to de Silva’s amused surprise, bordered on indulgent. ‘We’ve just been talking with Johnny Perera, the Bentley’s driver. Such a charming man. The son of Dudley Perera, you know.’

  De Silva nodded. He had certainly heard of Dudley Perera. Who had not? He was reputed to be one of the island’s wealthiest Ceylonese businessmen. So, this was his son. From the tales that sometimes crept into the newspapers, his nickname, the “playboy prince”, was well deserved. His handsome features were animated as he chatted and laughed with the gaggle of admirers surrounding him, several of them extremely attractive young ladies. A well-manicured moustache set the seal on his dashing air. De Silva guessed he must be in his mid-thirties.

  ‘Young Frobisher’s here somewhere,’ said Archie. ‘He’s back on leave for a few days.’ He chuckled. ‘Brought a very charming companion with him.’

  ‘She’s a WAAF based at China Bay,’ said Florence. ‘That’s where they met.’

  Jane smiled. ‘How nice. I hope we run into them.’

  They chatted for a while and admired the cars before parting company. ‘Well,’ said de Silva with a grin as they walked on through the crowds, ‘perhaps your wish is coming true.’

  ‘What wish would that be?’

  ‘Charlie Frobisher. Haven’t you been wanting him to find a suitable wife?’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s really none of my business.’ Her voice softened. ‘But I’ll admit, I’d be delighted to see him happily settled. He’s such an engaging young man.’

  By now the engines had fallen silent. Drivers and their co-drivers were donning leather helmets and goggles as their teams pushed the cars into their starting positions, angled side by side into the road, then they walked towards the starting line. Stewards with bull horns boomed instructions to the crowds. Moving like a sluggish river, they slowly crammed in behind the safety barriers that had been set up on either side of the start.

  ‘Of course, things may not be so well organised all along the route,’ remarked de Silva as they squeezed themselves into a gap.

  ‘Let’s hope people have the sense to keep well back. I’m always afraid there will be some horrible accident.’

  De Silva couldn’t deny that rallying was dangerous. He suspected that the danger was a large part of the attraction for the rally drivers. That and the challenge of finding out what speeds they could attain when the roads were free of bullock carts, rickshaws, and errant pedestrians. These days, the most powerful cars were built to attain speeds of over one hundred miles an hour.

  ‘Look!’ he said excitedly. The starting steward held aloft the green flag, and there was a moment when the crowd seemed to hold its breath before the flag swooped down and, to cheers and shouts of encouragement, the drivers and their co-drivers raced from the starting line towards their vehicles.

  Engines coughed into life and the air pulsated as the drivers opened up to full throttle and they were off! The smell of petrol intensified; de Silva’s ears rang, and his heartbeat quickened.

  The first part of the course required the drivers to negotiate a route through the intricate maze of narrow streets that made up the older, more traditional area of Nuala. It was very different in character to the parts the British had built. Those were in the colonial style with wide streets, pavements, and well-marked junctions.

  However, once the cars emerged onto the town’s perimeter road, also built by the British about forty years previously, they would be able to increase their speed. With the required number of laps of the perimeter completed, they would head up the hill to the racecourse. Finally, there would be a dash down the hill back towards Nuala and the finishing line. With the victorious car in the lead, the ones who had made it would then progress down the wide main street, finishing up in the square in front of Nuala’s best hotel, the Crown, for speeches and the presentation of the trophy.

  As the cars disappeared from sight into the labyrinthine streets, the crowd of spectators fanned out across town to watch from different places on the perimeter road. There were several well-known vantage points where the drivers had to use all their skill to stay in the race. Jane and de Silva installed themselves alongside the tricky bend close to the point where the road up to the Residence branched off. They didn’t have long to wait before they heard a growl that soon turned into a roar.

  ‘I might have to close my eyes,’ said Jane anxiously.

  ‘But then you’ll miss the excitement.’

  The jostling pack of cars streamed into sight, the Bugatti in the lead, flashing like a silver arrow. To de Silva’s surprise, for he agreed with Archie Clutterbuck’s assessment, the Bentley was only in fourth place, but then he decided that the playboy prince must be holding her back until later on. After all, there were many more laps and the last leg up to the racecourse and back to go. De Silva recalled him taking part in the rally before, so he’d probably worked out his strategy. He hadn’t won on either of the occasions that de Silva had attended, but he had come close, and this time he had the advantage of the best car in the field.

  The Bugatti negotiated the bend smoothly, followed by the Riley, the Alpha Romeo, and the Bentley. But when it came to the turn of the next car, the Lagonda, the driver took the bend too fast. A gasp rose from the crowd as the car went into a skid. For a moment, de Silva feared the driver would not be able to keep control. He held his breath, but then by some miracle the Lagonda righted itself and raced on.

  The next few laps passed without incident, but on the fifth lap the Riley also skidded and overturned not far from where they were standing. Jane’s hand went to her mouth. ‘Oh, I hope the driver’s not hurt. And what if another car comes along and runs into him?’

  ‘Just watch. These people know what they’re doing.’

  The words were no sooner out of his mouth than, as if out of thin air, a group of men in overalls dashed onto the track. The driver and his co-driver were already halfway out of the car, and they hauled them the rest of the way. More men appeared with buckets at the ready. De Silva wasn’t sure whether they contained water or sand, but fortunately, they were not needed. After some frantic pushing and pulling, the car was righted and wheeled to the side of the road. The operation was performed in the nick of time; a few seconds later, the next car roared past. Swiftly, men de Silva assumed to be mechanics checked the Riley over. As they did so, the driver and co-driver were already swinging themselves back into their seats.

  ‘I think I’d like a cup of tea after all that excitement,’ said Jane.

  ‘I’m not sure where we’ll find one out here.’ De Silva glanced around him. ‘But there’s a stall over there that looks to be selling cool drinks.’

  ‘Then that will have to do.’

  They chose their drinks and de Silva paid the stallholder a few annas. Jane wasn’t hungry, but he was tempted by another stall that displayed a variety of snacks. He chose some crispy vegetable rotis, fragrant with curry leaf and coconut, and the stallholder handed them over in a paper cornet.

  ‘The Hebdens decided not to come this time,’ remarked Jane as she sipped her mango juice. ‘It’s not long until the baby’s due. All this standing about in the heat wouldn’t have been good for Emerald. I shall have to hurry up and finish that shawl I’m making for the baby.’

  De Silva had oft
en seen her working on the beautifully soft, cobweb-fine shawl. ‘It does seem to be taking you longer than most of your projects,’ he remarked.

  ‘It’s because the wool is so thin.’

  They finished their drinks and de Silva ate the last of his rotis then left the empty paper cornet on the stall’s counter. He looked at his watch. ‘When you’re ready, we might watch from somewhere else for a while. We’d better get up to the finishing line soon though if we’re to have a chance of seeing it properly. There’s bound to be a big crowd.’

  Jane brushed a curl of carrot from the side of de Silva’s mouth. ‘I’m happy to go there now if you like. We might even find somewhere to sit down for a bit while we’re waiting.’

  De Silva tucked her arm through his. ‘Very well.’ He had long ago accepted that speed and the smell of petrol didn’t carry quite the same thrill for Jane as it did for him.

  It turned out that no benches were available, but not far from where the road down from the racecourse flattened out they found a place at a safety barrier with a decent view of the finishing line.

  Jane took a pretty fan painted with flowers out of her handbag and began to fan herself. ‘I wonder who’ll win,’ she remarked. ‘If Archie really has put money on it, let’s hope it’s the Bentley. He’ll be in trouble with Florence if he loses.’

  ‘I don’t think you need to worry. It’s the most powerful car, and I expect young Perera has the race all worked out.’

  People were gathering in ever increasing numbers in readiness for the end of the race. Stewards shepherded them behind the safety barriers as they arrived; already there was very little room left. A buzz of anticipation rose from the crowd. De Silva leant over the barrier, eager for the first glimpse of the frontrunners, the metal rail hot under his palms. A distant whine, like the sound of an angle grinder cutting metal, swelled to a roar then the first car came into sight. It was the Bentley.