The Valley of the Shadow (25 page)

“I’d better deal with those, too. I shouldn’t think Nick has Chaz’s address. I take it you do, and Julia’s?”

“They’ll be somewhere in the case notes, I’m sure, or their phone numbers, at least. I’ll find them. I expect that’s what Mr. Scumble and I will be doing all day tomorrow—reading over stacks of reports in hopes of illumination.” Megan pulled a face.

“Perhaps you’ll find the answer this afternoon,” Eleanor consoled her. “Where did the freighter take them to?”

“They don’t know. They stopped at sea, at night, and were lowered into a yacht, a motor yacht.”

“It must have been quite a big yacht for all of them to fit in!”

“That’s what the boss said. He wants to know how big, and how luxurious. If we manage to narrow down where it came from, that could help narrow the choice still further.”

“How far did it take them?”

“As far as Bossiney Cove from wherever they started!”

“Silly question. How long?”

“A whole day and part of two nights. They couldn’t see out. The boss says to find out if they noticed whether the engine was going full throttle all the way, because they might have dawdled so as not to arrive in daylight. But they could have gone in circles to make it seem a longer voyage, so I can’t see that would help. Anyway, the yacht anchored offshore in the night. Then they were taken by rowboat to the cave. They’d expected to be put ashore at a spot where they could make their own way inland.”

“Is that what they were told, or was it an assumption?”

“I don’t know. One more question to ask. It had certainly all been set up in advance, presumably by the ‘captain,’ whether he was captain of the yacht only or of the freighter as well. They were provided with boxes of supplies for a stay in the cave.”

“For how long?”

“It looked to me like maybe a week, for that many people. But that’s pure guesswork. Once the refugees realised they were running low, and no one came to fetch them, old Mr. Nayak stopped eating so that there would be more for the children and the pregnant woman—Jay’s sister. They started rationing the food, but none of them had eaten in a couple of days. We were too late to save the old man. It’s touch and go with Kalith’s mother.”

Not for the first time, Eleanor wondered why she had expected retiring to Cornwall to shield her from contact with the effects of human folly, greed, and cruelty. She had seen too much in too many different parts of the world to believe that any place is immune.

“What was it you were saying about the captain demanding more money at the last minute?”

Megan frowned. “That’s the strange part. Jay said it seemed to be a sudden decision. If he brought them all the way from Africa, he could have asked for more up front, or at any point. It does seem to suggest that he wasn’t in charge from the beginning, only the yacht part.”

“Or the boatman supposed to pick them up really did insist on being better paid and then failed to do what he was paid for.” Eleanor frowned in turn. Why should she suddenly recall the man in the telephone box? Should she mention him to Megan? She couldn’t see any reason for the unexpected flash of memory.

“So we’re back to who was responsible,” Megan said with a sigh, “the captain or the picker-upper. There always seems to be a point in every case where all the evidence takes us round in a circle.”

“But you always find the way out.”

“Usually.” She slowed as they reached the outskirts of Bodmin and turned in at the first pub. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Pub grub okay?”

“Of course.”

A pasty and a half of cider each later, they returned to the car.

“Now I must concentrate,” said Megan, “or we’ll be going round in circles in the one-way streets. I’ve got the directions written down, in my bag. I think I remember, but could you dig it out?”

Eleanor dug and directed. A few minutes later they turned into an estate of semidetached houses, so new that several were still under construction, parts sheltered by tarpaulins from the relentless rain. Builders’ lorries and vans obstructed the streets. Curtains in a few windows and tentative efforts to turn mud into front gardens showed which houses were already occupied.

Megan drove along a row of these and stopped in front of one that had candy-striped sheets roughly hung in place of curtains.

“Everyone who’s at home is watching us,” said Megan. “I should have asked for a plain car. I’m afraid this, added to the gross overcrowding, will confirm all their prejudices.”

“The Nayaks won’t have to stay here, stuffed into too small a house, though?”

“No, it’s just the best Social Services could do in an emergency. It’s the only one finished but empty.”

“They were lucky, then.”

“Yes. Look at that van—next door still has the plasterers in. Besides, so many people in a two or three bedroom is illegal. The local people have no responsibility to house them, though. I don’t know who does, to tell the truth.”

“No one. That’s the whole trouble, isn’t it? They have no place to lay their heads.”

“That sounds rather biblical, Aunt Nell. More Mrs. Stearns than you. From what Jay told me, I’d guess they may be able to afford their own housing. Assuming they’re allowed to stay.”

Eleanor brightened. “I should think they have a better chance of being allowed to stay in Britain if they won’t be a charge on the rates.”

“That’s the way the world wags,” Megan agreed. “Come on, let’s go and see what we can find out. Teazle had better stay in the car.”

“
Yip?
” After sleeping all the way, Teazle had sat up bright eyed and ready for anything as soon as the car stopped.

“Sorry, girl.”

Her ears drooped and she slumped down on the seat.

“If it stops raining, we’ll take her for a quick w-a-l-k on the way back,” Megan promised.

“It looks as if it’s all set to rain for a week. Megan, what do you want me to do in there? Interpret for the ones who don’t speak English? Because I’m sure one of them who does would do that better.”

“I’m going to interview them in small groups. With any luck, what one person says may spark memories in another. There are four men and four women, if I got it straight, plus the kids. No, two women and one child may still be in the local hospital.” She hesitated. “I hate to say this, but given cultural differences, is it fair to assume the women are less likely to speak English and more likely to be nervous?”

“I hate to agree, but in spite of Indira Gandhi, probably.”

“Then, if it’s all right with them, what I’ll do is talk to the men while you chat with the women and make them feel comfortable. Don’t worry about trying to get information, just be sympathetic.”

A path as much mud as gravel took them to the front door. Megan rang the bell. After a minute, the door was opened a few inches on the chain.

“It is you, Megan. Gopal—my young cousin—said he recognised you. He has been watching the builders opposite, from the landing window. One moment, please.” The door closed, then reopened without the chain. “Come in out of the rain! Perhaps today I should call you ‘sergeant’? This is an official visit?” He noticed Eleanor and blinked. “Or perhaps not.”

“It is official,” Megan said hurriedly, “but by all means call me Megan. Aunt Nell, this is Ajay Nayak. Jay, my aunt, Mrs. Trewynn. She’s here in a sort of semi-official capacity, with my inspector’s … sanction.” “Approval” would be stretching the truth. “She speaks … Which languages, Aunt Nell?”

Eleanor exchanged proper greetings with the young man before she answered, “I used to speak reasonably good Hindi and Swahili, and a little Gujarati, but I’m rusty. Out of practice.”

An older man, Jay’s father, came from the room to the left of the tiny hall. Megan propounded her plan, which met with approbation from both Jay, as a policeman, and Mr. Nayak, as head of the family.

Jay ushered Eleanor into the room on the right. It was furnished with three mattresses, three pillows, and quantities of sheets and rugs.

“From the Red Cross,” he explained. He introduced his mother, his wife, and his two young children. “My aunt will join you, and Kalith’s sister, my cousin.”

The little girl performed a creditable namaste. Her younger brother sucked his thumb and stared.

“I am sorry we have no chair for you,” their mother said in fluent though accented English.

Eleanor smiled at her. “Don’t worry. I’m quite good at sitting cross-legged.” Though not quite as good as she had been a few years ago. The Aikido exercises kept her limber, so getting down was not a problem, but staying in that position for long became uncomfortable, and then getting up was difficult. She’d cross that bridge when she came to it. “I’m glad your little boy didn’t have to stay in hospital.”

“He is well. They taught me what to give him to eat to make him strong again. The Red Cross gave us food, also, but it is strange, not what we are used to. My husband’s sister is still in hospital.” She made a gesture indicating pregnancy. “They want to keep an eye on her. Luckily she speaks English, and we may visit this evening.”

Another woman and a girl of seventeen or so came in and were introduced as a third Mrs. Nayak and Naima Chudasama.

Naima shyly asked after her mother and her brother.

Before Eleanor could answer, a teenage boy shoved a younger boy, perhaps ten or eleven, into the room by the scruff of his neck. They both spoke at once in Gujarati, the older ordering, the younger obviously protesting. Eleanor understood enough to guess a good translation of the protest might be, “I am
too
a man!”

Jay’s aunt (if Eleanor was keeping them straight) spoke sharply to them. The elder disappeared, presumably to join the men, and the younger, looking sulky, bowed to Eleanor and sat down, as far from the two smaller children as he could get.

“My aunt apologises for the behaviour of her sons,” Jay’s wife said. “Gopal can’t wait to be old enough to sit with the men. Can you tell us if my aunt Chudasama and my cousin Kalith are well?”

“I can’t tell you much, I’m afraid. The hospital says they are resting comfortably.”

“Jay said the lady sergeant saved Kalith,” said Mrs. Jay. “She is your niece?”

“Please, madam,” Gopal interrupted eagerly, “tell us how the lady sergeant saved Kalith.”

So Eleanor told the story, in several languages at once, and in return they told her about their long journey. Gopal kept trying to interrupt, but he was firmly shushed by his mother.

“Pal,” said Mrs. Jay at one point, “when we are finished, you may speak.”

After that he sat mum, though bouncing impatiently on his bit of mattress. At first the women were hesitant, but once they warmed up they sometimes interrupted each other, sometimes paused in painful silence when no one wanted to put a difficult passage into words. At last they ended with their arrival at the house in Bodmin. A longer silence seemed to Eleanor to hold a sense of relief, of release. Simply talking about their ordeal had brought a degree of comfort.

“I’m sorry,” Eleanor said into the silence.

“Now it’s my turn,” Gopal announced. He stood up, at attention. “Madam, they say we were not allowed to go up on the deck of the ship. But I went. The sailors did not see me. I went everywhere on that ship. Upstairs and downstairs and everywhere. I did not tell anyone, not even my brother. They would have said I must not.”

“And what did you see, Pal?” Eleanor asked with a frisson of excitement.

“I saw the captain,” he said importantly.

“Did you really? What did he look like?”

“He was big, bigger than the sailors. I thought he would wear a smart uniform, but his clothes were ordinary, except for his hat. That had gold on it. He was a white man. Except, his face was red.”

“Did you see the colour of his hair? Of his eyes?” She remembered she wasn’t supposed to be asking questions. They knew she wasn’t a police officer, though, so surely she couldn’t get into trouble for impersonating one?

“I saw his hair once. He took off his hat to scratch his head. He was … He had no hair in the middle?”

“Bald?”

“Yes, bald in the middle. The hair round the edge was the colour of straw.”

“You’re very observant, Pal. Good at noticing. What about his eyes? I don’t suppose you had a chance to see them close.”

“I did!” the boy said triumphantly. “Not on the big ship, but when we got off the little ship. He was wearing a funny sort of hat that covered almost all his head, but I saw his eyes when the torch crossed his face. They were grey. Pale grey, with lines at the corners.”

“The man on the yacht was the captain of the big ship? You’re sure?”

“Yes, madam, of course. I am very observant. And I heard the other man on the … the yacht call him ‘cap’n,’ like ‘captain’ without a
t.
And he called the man Lenny.”

Eleanor decided it was time to get Megan in on the act. Who could guess what else the boy might reveal?

TWENTY-FOUR

With reluctance, Eleanor lowered herself to the mattress again. It had been quite a struggle getting up from it, requiring a helping hand from Mrs. Jay.

The room had a new cast of characters: Eleanor, Megan, Gopal, and the boy’s parents, Jay’s uncle and aunt. Megan had insisted on the parents being present, one or both of them, but made them promise not to interrupt. She invited Gopal to sit beside her, opposite his parents, but he chose to stand in front of her at attention, as he had with Eleanor. She assumed it had been required at the school that had taught him such excellent English.

“I hear you’re a very observant young man,” said Megan.

“Yes,” he agreed complacently, then hesitated. “Shall I call you madam or sergeant?”

“Sergeant will do nicely. All right, tell me again what you told Mrs. Trewynn.”

He did so, avoiding any temptation to embroider with a wart or two or a missing finger. Eleanor thought he would make a good witness. But were ten-year-olds allowed to give evidence in court?

“You’re quite sure it was the same man, Pal?” Megan asked. “On the big ship and the yacht?”

“Yes. If not, I would not say it.”

“And you’re certain Lenny was the boatman’s name? You couldn’t have mistaken some other word the captain used—‘many,’ for instance? Even ‘plenty’ or ‘twenty’?”