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

  ‘I receive very few visits and certainly none from the authorities.’ She placed a barely perceptible stress on the last word. ‘I hope you haven’t come to give me unpleasant news.’

  ‘I’m afraid I have, ma’am. I expect you’re aware that the Hill Country Challenge took place on Saturday.’

  ‘Of course. When he was living in Nuala, my stepson Donald competed in all the rallies. Cars were a passion with him. Unfortunately, a very expensive one.’

  ‘The rally was won by Johnny Perera.’

  She frowned. ‘Perera, you say. The name is familiar.’

  ‘His family lived here at the plantation before your late husband bought the estate.’

  ‘Ah yes, I remember Dudley Perera. He went on to make a great deal of money in rubber.’

  ‘Johnny is his son. After he had celebrated his victory, he had a sudden desire to revisit his childhood home, so he and his friends drove up here.’

  Isobel raised an eyebrow. ‘I suppose you’re about to tell me he assumed he would be welcomed at a late hour, even though he hadn’t been invited.’

  ‘Something like that, ma’am, although I don’t believe he meant any harm. It was merely the exuberance of the day.’

  ‘Forgivable. Please, go on. I hope my daughter-in-law was not alarmed by the intrusion.’

  ‘She wasn’t at home and still isn’t.’

  ‘Strange.’ Isobel frowned. ‘Marina rarely goes out, certainly not in the evenings. Last time I saw her, she didn’t mention she had any plans to do so.’

  ‘I spoke with Muttu. He said she’d not told him that she was going out, and her car has gone. He has no idea when she’ll be back.’

  ‘Well, it’s unusual, but I’m not Marina’s keeper. She isn’t obliged to account to me, and certainly not to her servants. Was there a particular reason why you wanted to see her?’

  ‘Mr Perera brought his dog, a German Shepherd, with him, and it ran off. When they found it, it had unearthed a bone. At first, they thought it must belong to an animal but then one of their party, a doctor, took the view that it was human. Further investigation revealed a skeleton buried in a disused area behind some garages.’

  ‘Good heavens. What are you suggesting?’ asked Isobel sharply.

  ‘It’s too soon to be certain, but I believe it’s possible that the remains are those of your stepson.’

  **

  ‘Poor Marina,’ whispered Isobel, half to herself. Her long, slim fingers twisted her necklace. Suddenly, she didn’t seem quite as formidable as she had at first meeting. She looked away for a few moments, her head bowed, then turned back to face him. ‘How much do you know of the story of Marina’s marriage to my stepson?’

  ‘The assistant government agent, Mr Clutterbuck, told me that they parted company about eight years ago.’

  Isobel laughed dryly. ‘A tactful way of putting it. Donald ran off with another woman. It was the last we’ve seen or heard from him.’

  ‘Forgive me for asking, ma’am, I’m sure the subject is a painful one, but on what evidence do you base that conclusion?’

  ‘My stepson had many liaisons over the years. Some of them were common knowledge, a fact that I found extremely distasteful. In this case, he was overheard making plans to leave Nuala with a mistress.’

  ‘Heard by whom?’

  ‘My companion, Miss Collins.’

  ‘I’d like to speak to her if I may.’

  ‘That won’t be possible. Rosamund Collins left my employment shortly after Donald went away. I’m afraid she wasn’t suited to the job.’

  ‘Do you know where she went?’

  Isobel thought for a moment. ‘A family who lived near Ella. If I remember rightly, their name was Pelham. I’ve no idea if she’s still with them.’

  At least Ella was a small place. It shouldn’t be too hard to track the Pelhams down, and even if this companion had moved on, it would be a start.

  ‘If you’re right that it’s Donald’s body you’ve found,’ Isobel went on, ‘I’m afraid Marina is likely to be very distressed. She and Donald weren’t always happy, but every time he strayed, she took him back. I doubt I would be as forgiving, but life is hard for a woman on her own. I can testify to that. And she was certainly very much in love with him at the start. She’s a clever young woman, and when they met in London, she was studying to become a doctor, but he swept her off her feet and she gave it all up to follow him to Ceylon.’

  Isobel rallied. ‘You may be wrong, of course. Do you have proof that they are Donald’s remains you’ve unearthed, or is all this conjecture?’

  ‘Nothing conclusive, but the circumstances are suspicious. More importantly, the skeleton bears signs of an injury that may help us to identify it. The left leg was broken in two places while the deceased was still alive. Do you recall your stepson having an accident at any time?’

  ‘Whatever his faults, Donald was a good driver, but there may have been an incident I’m not aware of. My first husband, Harold Dacre, was a senior official in the Justice Secretariat. We lived in Colombo and I wasn’t acquainted with the Moncrieff family. After he died, I married Donald’s father, Victor. That was in 1925 and we hadn’t known each other for very long. When I met Donald and Marina, they were dividing their time between here and Colombo where Donald had business interests. I have no idea what those were, so I’m afraid I can’t enlighten you. There were also his motor racing activities which frequently took up his time. When Victor died in the autumn of 1930, Donald inherited the plantation. He and Marina moved into the main house and I came here.’

  A pleading note entered her voice. ‘Surely, you don’t believe Marina had anything to with this. She’s a gentle creature. If it is Donald, someone else must have killed him.’

  ‘Do you know if he had any enemies?’

  ‘Do you mean any who hated him enough to murder him? I have no idea. All I can tell you is that he wasn’t a popular man.’ She paused. ‘Have you spoken to Peter Flint? He manages the plantation for Marina. He may be able to tell you where she is.’

  ‘I’ve already spoken to Mr Flint. He has no idea where she is either.’

  ‘I’m sure there will be a perfectly simple explanation,’ said Isobel briskly. ‘And if this is Donald’s body you’ve found, I repeat, nothing will convince me that she had a hand in his murder.’

  ‘Your loyalty is admirable, ma’am. But I must ask you to notify me straight away if you see her.’

  Isobel nodded. ‘Of course.’

  She rang the small brass bell on the table at her elbow. The impassive servant appeared almost immediately. He had probably been listening to every word.

  ‘Show the inspector out, Jamis.’

  De Silva took his leave. As he was ushered to the door, he thought how inappropriate the fellow’s name was. He was far from exemplifying the good cheer that it meant. On the way back to collect Prasanna and Nadar, he decided he’d heard nothing so far that definitively ruled out Marina Moncrieff. In fact quite the reverse. Could it be a mere coincidence that Marina had disappeared the very night that what might well be the bones of her husband were discovered? If it wasn’t a coincidence, how did she become aware they had been discovered? Had she seen the Perera party searching for the German Shepherd when it was barking from behind the garages, and realised the game might well be up?

  However, he mustn’t overlook the possibility that one of the sources of the rumour that Donald Moncrieff had run off with his mistress might be covering up their own or someone else’s crime. He needed to find Rosamund Collins. He also needed Archie to tell him the name of anyone else who had offered information at the time of Moncrieff’s disappearance.

  Chapter 6

  At the site of the grave, Prasanna and Nadar had searched within a wide radius but found nothing of interest.

  ‘I suppose there have been eight years of monsoon rains since the body was buried,’ said de Silva.

  ‘And a landslide, sir,’ added Prasanna, pushing a lock of hair out
of his eyes with a mud-streaked hand.

  Nadar, who was puffing a little, looked at him hopefully. ‘Shall we stop, sir?’ he asked.

  ‘You may as well.’ De Silva looked at his watch. ‘If you were going to unearth any great revelations, I think you would have done so by now.’

  The young men followed him back to the house and, after checking with Muttu that Marina had still not returned, de Silva drove home to Nuala and dropped them at the station.

  ‘May we take time for lunch now, sir?’ asked Nadar.

  ‘You may, but don’t take long over it. I want you to get over to the printers and collect the missing person notices I’ve ordered. Keep enough to put up in the usual places here and send the rest down to the police stations at Hatton, Kandy, and Colombo. By the time you come back, I’ll probably have gone up to the Residence to speak with Mr Clutterbuck. You may as well hold the fort here.’

  It wouldn’t be advisable to go to the Residence straight away. Archie never liked to be interrupted at mealtimes.

  The young men thanked him and hurried away. Left alone, de Silva’s thoughts turned to his own lunch. Jane wasn’t expecting him back, so he decided to eat at the bazaar.

  Most people would already have done their food shopping, but the lanes between the stalls were crowded with lunchtime trade. The shops around the perimeter of the bazaar were also busy. Brightly coloured signs giving the names of their proprietors and assuring customers of the excellent quality and variety of goods on offer caught the eye. Bicycle and rickshaw bells provided a tinkling accompaniment to the general bustle.

  De Silva dived into the lanes and headed for the area where his favourite stall was situated. On the way, he passed stalls displaying mounds of limes, pineapples, rambutans, mangosteens, durian fruits, and pomegranates. The vegetable stalls were equally colourful with earthy-smelling carrots, sweet potatoes, cauliflowers, and cabbages displayed alongside tomatoes, chillies, white or Bombay onions, and eggplants. Their colours varied from deep, glossy purple, to purple speckled with white, or butter yellow. There were all kinds of gourds including the long, knobbly bitter gourd that looked like an ugly reptile. He remembered his mother making an excellent relish from it that she flavoured with chilli and lime juice. Jackfruit, snake beans, and winged beans that were delicious when curried were also for sale.

  Amongst the bundles of herbs, he saw gotu kola. The low, creeping plant with pretty penny-shaped leaves grew well in a patch at the bottom of his garden that was always boggy after the rains. It was prized in Ayurvedic medicine for fortifying the immune system, promoting restful sleep, and improving the circulation. Applied as an ointment, it was also believed to help wounds and burns to heal faster. His mother used to claim it was a good beauty treatment too, softening the skin and smoothing out wrinkles. Long ago, people had also noticed that elephants liked to munch the leaves, which had led to the belief that it would improve longevity and memory and even increase the power of thinking. He might need to resort to some of it before this case was over.

  He reached the stall he was looking for and bought some kottu roti. A fresh batch was just being made, and he watched the stallholder take the balls of oiled dough and slap them on the metal counter at the back of the stall before cooking them on his sizzling hot griddle. Once they were cooked, he rolled them and deftly cut the rolls into slices then chopped those into small pieces. Vegetables, thinly sliced chillies, and a dollop of chicken curry were added and briskly mixed together. By the time the batch was ready, de Silva was even hungrier than he had been when he arrived at the bazaar. When he had finished the portion the stallholder gave him, he bought another.

  He had almost finished it and was debating whether it was time to stop when he heard his name being called. He turned to see Charlie Frobisher and Ruth Bailey smiling at him. He greeted them, hoping there were no stray curls of vegetable clinging to his cheeks. A disadvantage of lunching in the street was that it could lead to undignified results.

  ‘That looks good,’ said Ruth. ‘We ate here too. Charlie says it’s one of the best places in town.’

  ‘I agree with him there.’

  ‘We’re off to Colombo to stay with my uncle and aunt tomorrow. We thought we’d have a last look around the bazaar before we go. I was hoping to find a few presents to take with us.’

  ‘I hope you were successful.’

  ‘Yes, we’ve bought a lovely scarf for my aunt and two carved elephants that are very unusual for my uncle. He’s very interested in woodwork.’

  ‘Like my constable,’ said de Silva with a smile. ‘He is fond of carving toys for his children.’

  ‘How’s the Moncrieff case going?’ asked Charlie.

  De Silva raised an eyebrow. ‘News travels fast.’

  ‘I went up to the Residence this morning to have a word with the boss. He mentioned it then. It sounds a tricky one.’

  ‘I’m afraid so. The trail will have gone very cold after so many years.’ He didn’t like to mention that Marina Moncrieff was his chief suspect. If he turned out to be wrong, it would be unfair to have blackened her name. Strictly speaking too, Charlie wasn’t officially involved in the case, so he ought to be careful how much he told him.

  Charlie lowered his voice. ‘Between ourselves, I think the boss feels a bit guilty he didn’t carry out a more thorough investigation at the time. He didn’t say it in so many words, but you know the look he has when he’s afraid he might be on sticky ground.’

  De Silva knew it: the look of a mournful but recalcitrant bloodhound. He laughed. ‘I do. Thank you for telling me.’

  **

  After his meeting with Charlie and Ruth, he headed back to the station. As he drove, he pondered over what he might have overlooked. David Hebden hadn’t had long to investigate Doctor Lucas’s notes, but the result of that was important. He needed proof that the dead man they were dealing with was indisputably Donald Moncrieff.

  Then the thought of Perera’s doctor, Michael Rudd, came into his mind. On reflection, he realised that he hadn’t ascertained how thorough Rudd’s examination of the remains had been. Given the situation and the fact that he’d appeared to be in a hurry to leave, it would be unwise to rely on it. That was something else he would need to enlist David Hebden’s help with. Hopefully, he would be able to provide a theory as to the cause of death.

  He was passing the front of the Crown Hotel when he noticed Rudd coming down the steps. He saw de Silva and raised a hand in greeting. Pulling the Morris into the shade of a nearby tree, de Silva got out and went over to speak to him.

  ‘Good afternoon to you, Inspector. How are you getting on with ferreting out your Algie’s identity?’

  ‘Algie?’

  Rudd smiled. ‘The skeleton. At med school, we students called the one we were taught anatomy on “Algernon” – “Algie” for short.’

  ‘Ah, I see. Nothing definite yet, but I’m glad we met. I’ve been wanting to ask if on reflection, noticed anything about the remains that might help me to establish the cause of death.’

  Rudd’s brow furrowed. ‘No, but I have to admit that the situation didn’t encourage an exhaustive examination.’

  ‘I appreciate that. I just wanted to check.’

  A posse of servants emerged from the hotel carrying a large collection of monogrammed luggage. At the edge of the group, another servant was struggling to keep an excitable Caesar under control.

  ‘As you see, we’re on our way,’ said Rudd. ‘Mr Perera is due back in Colombo tomorrow.’

  The man himself appeared at the top of the steps, dressed in an impeccably tailored cream linen suit and elegant tan leather shoes. His thick raven hair was slicked back in the latest fashion. He took the steps two at a time and joined them, holding out his hand to shake de Silva’s.

  ‘Good afternoon! I’m afraid we’ve caused you a bit of trouble with our little excursion. Rudd told me about it, and I learnt more when I lunched today with the Clutterbucks at the Residence. One doesn’t like to spea
k ill of the dead, but if those bones are Donald Moncrieff’s, I doubt he’ll be much missed.’

  ‘It hasn’t been conclusively established that it is him yet.’

  Perera smiled. ‘So Clutterbuck said. But I had the impression he wasn’t in much doubt.’

  Interesting. Archie must have resigned himself to accepting that he had made a mistake in not investigating more thoroughly.

  Caesar dragged his handler closer to his master’s side and made a lunge to get the last bit of the way to him. De Silva wondered if the dog had accompanied the party to the Residence. A confrontation between Caesar and Angel would have been memorable.

  ‘Mind what you’re doing,’ snapped Perera, glowering at the handler. The man hauled the big dog away, apologising abjectly. For a moment, de Silva saw a different side to his master and remembered Archie’s story about how angry Perera had been when Donald Moncrieff had insulted him. He realised that he had never considered him as a suspect, and perhaps that had been an omission. But then if he had been involved, why return to the plantation now? The argument had been over Moncrieff’s Bugatti. If Perera had a hand in his death, his best opportunity to take it would have been at the time.

  But what if for some reason he had missed that opportunity? He had taken a considerable risk of being found at the property on Saturday night, but might he have known that Marina wouldn’t be there? That would have made a difference. In some as yet mysterious way, was the Bugatti part of a connection between the dashing Perera and the unhappy Marina? Just how well had Perera known the Moncrieffs?