Lost Lad (17 page)

            Derek gravitated to a large mullioned leaded window framed by Virginia creeper.  His eye was gladdened by a profusion, a multiplicity of bright colours which smiled back from interesting, geometric flower beds.  These attractive formal gardens extended across neat lawns up to a stone balustrade which overlooked the sudden, steep, densely wooded descent down into the Water-cum-Jolly Dale ravine.  To each side he noted mature ornamental trees.  Looking above, again, he saw the endless vista of green and white, dappled and darkened with the occasional slow moving cloud.  Except for the welcome bird-song there was a profound peaceful silence. 

            Derek Russell pondered the rich quality of life available to one who has never had to work for a living and has the means to live in such a beautiful house in such a magnificent location.  He was not by inclination envious, yet, here and now, he did envy Algernon Hardman.   Being reasonably content with a fulfilling career, enjoying a modest level of status in the community, Derek had never been particularly ambitious, but he did occasionally daydream of what 'might have been' if wealthy parents had made it possible for him to try his hand at risky ventures, such as acting or writing.  Algernon Hardman could have done almost anything, but was satisfied to be reclusive, bookish, studying languages, foreign cultures and travelling abroad.

            John Winter was sharing similar thoughts perusing a shelf of antiquarian calf-bound volumes.  Oak beams and a 16th century style stone fireplace gave the feeling of a much older house.  There was porcelain, a china cabinet, some good paintings and a few family portraits looked down on a massive Victorian desk which dominated the room.  John was leaning over this expansive piece of furniture to inspect more closely a large Oriental vase of fresh cut flowers when, suddenly, a dark forbidding figure appeared in the doorway.

It should have been obvious that the Detective Sergeant was admiring either the container or its well arranged contents, but, there was something in the quality of the silence of this sinister newcomer: something about the intensity of his disapproving countenance which made John immediately launch into an unnecessary explanation -

           
"Oh! Sorry!  I was just ...  I never could resist the scent of ..."

Derek Russell stepped forward and rescued his subordinate with perfunctory introductions which partially relieved the atmosphere.  Algernon Hardman moved towards his desk and, with a slight gesture of his hand, indicated two leather easy chairs.  Derek knew of this local lord by his formidable reputation but, until now, had never beheld him in the flesh.  His dark leathery face, deeply wrinkled around a cruel mouth, gave him the look of a man who was nearer 60 than approaching 50.  Perhaps, thought Derek, the horrendous recent experience on the Continent had contributed to this haggard and reproving glare. 

            Hardman silently slipped into his desk chair and interlocked his fingers revealing long black hairs on the back of his hands.  Up to now their unfriendly host had not spoken one word.  The uncomfortable silence forced Derek into speech -

           
"I'm sorry to be troubling you at this difficult time ... "
                       

Impatiently, Hardman interrupted in a stern and commanding tone -
"It would be hypocritical to pretend that you were welcome, Detective Inspector, in this house.  My wife is killed!  My son and I are both fortunate to be alive, and yet we barely have time to sit down, before an army of your men trample over my garden; trample through my woods ... since yesterday, as I gather -  without result."

           
"I appreciate the inconvenience but ..."

           
"
Truants
usually return when the novelty has worn thin.  This 'hue and cry' is somewhat precipitant do you not think?  The person concerned has hardly had a chance to become hungry!"

Derek parried.  Employing his diplomatic skills he was determined to re-gain lost ground and complete his sentences -   

           
"I wish I could share your optimism, Dr Hardman, and sincerely hope you're correct.  We'd all like to go home ...
however
..." 
He forestalled an imminent interruption.
  "However, the circumstances of this particular disappearance strongly suggest that Brian Forrester is somewhere on, or indeed in, your property.  We will need ... "

           
"Oh please do!  Don't waste time getting a search warrant.  Bring in your troops, bring them all and explore the cellar.  I doubt you'll find any recently dug graves.  Don't forget to search the trunks in the attic and when you've finally finished - depart and leave us in peace."

Derek, who already had a search warrant in his pocket, ignored the sarcasm, made a civil remark appreciating co-operation and turned the subject around to the servants.  The response was a touch more conciliatory -

           
"I can understand your line of thought regarding Simon.  Quite simply, if I had any doubts whatsoever on that matter, he would not be allowed anywhere near my own family.  Whatever his predilections and
weaknesses beyond Cressbrook Hall, his record here, has been exemplary." 
At this point his features and voice softened a little more as he looked down at a pre-war photograph of a young woman.
  "Marjorie would wish me to say that.  He has been invaluable.  Charles needs him ... especially now." 
Suddenly, he looked up sharply and resumed his cold hostility.
  "To suggest that Simon is capable of, or even able to plan and effect an abduction is utter lunacy.  As I believe you already know, he is guilty of many sins, but child molestation is, I can assure you gentlemen, not one of them."

While that subject was hanging in the air, Derek asked to interview Mr Hardman's son Charles on the grounds that a child can observe things most of us miss.  The request was granted, only just and very reluctantly.  He rose and pulled the bell for Simon.

           
"The boy is traumatised: we are all traumatised.  Please remember that when you are questioning Simon.  He doesn't show it,  but he's really very upset indeed.  He thought the world of Marjorie."

Simon was given instructions and re-appeared minutes later with a nervous, shy, mousy boy who was thin and looked to be about twelve years of age.  He had a pale, pleasant, if vacant face of soft rounded features.  Derek greeted him cheerfully and seriously suggested that he might be in a special position to help the police.

           
"When I was your age, Charles, I had lots of secret hiding places were you could spy and gather all sorts of useful intelligence.  Brian could be hiding somewhere in this big house, he could be anywhere.  We need to find him because he may be hurt.  His parents are very worried and unhappy ... very upset.  Have you seen Brian?"
  This was answered by an almost inaudible
"No".

           
"If you do ever see a boy you don't know, or find a bicycle anywhere, will you please promise to tell an adult - immediately?"
  Again, a barely audible
"Yes".
 

After Charles was dismissed, a few more general questions established that father and son had arrived home at
"about lunch time"
and that Simon was at his post to receive them and, in fact, had been in Cressbrook Hall all that day.

Detective Inspector Derek Russell decided to ask questions about the gardener.

Chapter 16

A Seductive Suggestive Silver Tongue

The Lodge was built at the same time as Cressbrook Hall back in 1835. The detectives learned that the Coggan family of gardeners were already installed when old Isaiah Hardman took over in 1888.  Algernon Hardman referred to 'Old Coggan' (the last of four brothers) in deferential terms due to his great horticultural knowledge, long service and reliability.  His wife died young in 1940 leaving him with just one son who was christened Adolph in 1930, just before it became unfashionable and, indeed, undesirable to call any English boy Adolph - hence the family nickname of 'Dolly'.

           
"Naturally my father refused to address any boy as 'Dolly'! 

When Old Coggan died about ... let me see ... eight years ago now I think, it was easier to refer to Adolphus simply as 'Coggan', but I must admit,
(here he almost smiled)
'Dolly' is entirely apt for such a small comical rotundity."

           
"Dolly tub!"
suggested Detective Sergeant John Winter when he directly addressed Dr Hardman for the first time.  For a frosty moment a steely eye was turned on the junior man -

           
"Quite so.  Good staff is hard to come by in these modern days of ever increasing equality ... I suppose we should be grateful to be clinging on to, at least, the last two servants - however bizarre they are!"

Feeling a little more confident, John put his first question to the Master of the House.

           
"Is Mr Coggan entirely satisfactory?"

           
"If you mean as a gardener ... I suppose 'only just' would be the correct answer.  Coggan has never been disposed to hard physical work and puts in a minimum effort in the minimum amount of time which, notwithstanding, I must admit, manages to produce a reasonable show.  The grounds are nowhere near the high standard they were before Old Coggan became too ill to work.  I can't exactly complain - it will do, well ... it
has
to do.

           
"Your gardener can afford to run a car!"
  said Derek.

           
"A new motorcar at that!"
replied the employer with some disapproval considering that a lowly gardener should also be a private motorist.
  "Well it
was
brand new just a few years ago.  It would be ... 1956.  Yes, that's it ... the first of that type to have a one piece windscreen.  I recall that Coggan
was very proud.  Earlier models had the two panel split screen ..."

           
"A Morris Minor 1000cc!"
  interjected John.

           
"I know nothing of cars, Detective Sergeant, but I do believe that was the model Charles mentioned.  He was fascinated by the strange illuminated little arms which sprang out of the sides when it turned a corner."

           
"Trafficators,"
said John, very sure of his ground in this modern subject of automobiles and fully aware that Hardman was asserting his status by claiming ignorance of anything so common as mechanics.

           
"You don't drive yourself then?"

           
"I find the local taxi service adequate for my needs."

           
"Coggan?"

           
"Coggan is the gardener!  And we see very little of him doing that.  I would never ask for a ride unless it was an emergency and that has yet to happen."

During this exchange, Derek had been consulting his notes on Adolphus Coggan.  The upholstery and interior of his car had been carefully examined.  There were no signs to show that a bicycle (or indeed a boy) had been squeezed inside recently.  The recorded mileage was almost 80,000 well above the annual average of about 7,000 miles for a private motorcar in 1960.  It was an economical car of a modest size which would have cost its owner several hundred pounds to purchase.  These facts were not reconcilable with a modest income.  Derek put his concerns to Algernon Hardman who responded with some animation.

           
"That car has always puzzled
me
, Detective Inspector.  Coggan enjoys a handsome house with four bedrooms, all to himself (assuming he is not concealing your missing person) absolutely rent free and is paid a generous £35 per month for his rare appearances in my garden."

           
"Mr Coggan said .. "
continued Russell
" .. he was out driving yesterday from before lunch-time to past 11.00pm.  That fits in with our witnesses who didn't notice a car ... "