Angel With Two Faces (25 page)

‘I have no idea how to cope with it,’ she admitted. ‘What do you tell a fourteen-year-old about death, let alone a death as
complicated as this? And because I can’t bear to talk about it, it makes it all unreal to her, somehow – he’s just gone away, and she can’t understand why I’ve taken his photograph down.’

‘They got on well, from what I can remember.’

‘Yes, and more so as she got older. He showed her an exciting world of freedom while all I ever did was tell her what she couldn’t do. She’s lost that now, and I know she blames me in some way. She stays away from home whenever she can, and doesn’t ask much of me. I blamed Nathaniel for that, but it’s my fault, not his. I
am
sorry he’s dead, you know,’ she said as Archie stood up, ready to go. ‘Do you have any idea who killed him?’

‘No, not yet.’

‘And you wouldn’t tell me if you did.’

‘Probably not,’ he admitted, ‘but – for what it’s worth – I will tell you to stay safe. When Loveday’s well again, try to keep an eye on her. No one should be wandering around at the moment, and steer clear of Kestrel Jacks.’

‘Why? Do you think he had something to do with it?’

‘There’s no reason to suspect him more than anyone else, but you know how he feels about you and, with Harry gone, he might try and do something about it.’

‘It’s ironic, isn’t it? He beats his wife up and we all turn a blind eye to it, but Harry and I loved each other and that’s the sin. Nothing makes sense – not to me, at least.’ Put like that, Archie thought, it was not surprising that she should feel so bitter. ‘Anyway, I doubt Jacks would want me if he knew Harry had got there first,’ she added, walking him to the door. ‘I’d be damaged goods as far as he was concerned. It’s almost worth telling him just to see the look on his face.’

‘You’re not serious, are you?’ he asked, with an urgency in
his voice. Her words reminded him of what Jago had said about Loveday, and suddenly he feared for Morwenna: there was a fragility about her which her defiance had never entirely masked, and he sensed in her now a lack of concern for her own welfare which bordered almost on self-loathing. It would smoulder in her, he knew, if she did not try to get over what had happened, but how on earth was she supposed to do that? ‘If you’re worried that I’ll make this public, then don’t be. You’ve told me in confidence, and it has nothing to do with the investigation as far as I can see.’

She surprised him by lifting a hand tenderly to his cheek. ‘It’s nice that you care, Archie,’ she said, ‘but how can it matter now if someone finds out? I don’t feel anything any more. What can hurt me?’

It had begun to rain softly by the time Penrose arrived back at the Minack and, as the mist drifted in from the sea, drawing the horizon ever closer like a magnet, he saw a very different side to the theatre’s character – a side which made Rowena Cade’s stoic determination to make a success of the venture even more remarkable. He had arranged to meet Angus Trew here to review the scene before proceeding with the investigation; last night, it had been virtually impossible to do anything except get Nathaniel’s body to safety and take the necessary photographs. This morning, while he had no great hopes that the Minack would give up any significant physical evidence, he wanted to fix the area firmly in his mind and make sure that every possibility was covered in the questioning which lay ahead. On the way over, he had called in at the police station in Penzance to see what the camera had managed to capture in its race against the tide, and the stark, black-and-white record of the curate’s terrible death helped to focus his mind. Penrose was aware that his attention had, until now, been spread too thin; he had to concentrate on Nathaniel, and stop letting the business with Harry and Morwenna distract him from a murder case. Their grief needed to be laid to rest, in his own mind at least.

Out of courtesy to Rowena Cade, he stopped briefly at Minack House to update her on the police presence on her property, but she was out walking the cliffs so he made his way
over the brow of the hill. No time had been wasted today: a thorough search of the scene itself and the nearby cliff paths had begun at first light and was now drawing to a close. Penrose watched, impressed, as a line of men made their way slowly and systematically up the turf slope towards him; everyone involved was, no doubt, aware that this was likely to be a fruitless search but there was no indication of this in their attitude. A single piece of carelessness at this stage could prove to be costly, and Penrose – who had always been used to a trustworthy second in command – thanked his lucky stars for PC Trew. The young constable – who looked altogether different in his uniform – seemed very at home in charge of the proceedings. He had an easy rapport with the older men, Penrose noticed, and it was no small feat to command respect at such an early stage in his career. If he wanted to, there was no doubt that Trew could rise quickly through the ranks, and he smiled as he remembered his sergeant’s cynical remarks; even Bill would be hard-pushed to find fault here.

Trew looked up and waved. ‘Just finishing up here, Sir,’ he called as he came over.

‘Anything I should know about?’ Penrose asked, without any real optimism.

‘Not a great deal,’ Trew admitted. ‘We’ve been over the whole theatre now, including the steps at either side and the backstage areas, and we’ve combed the coastal paths for a mile or so in each direction, but there’s nothing of any obvious significance. Miss Cade showed us all the routes down to the sea that she knows of, just in case whoever it was clambered down one of those and got away by boat – but if that’s the case, he left no traces.’

Penrose walked over to the edge of the cliff, feeling the
clammy sea wind on his skin, and thought for a moment. ‘It’s possible, I suppose, but it seems a lot to ask. It’s a risky enough crime as it is, without having to climb down cliffs in the dark and fight an incoming tide.’ He saw Trew’s face fall a little, and remembered that this responsibility was new to the boy. ‘We can’t rule anything out at this stage, though,’ he added. ‘Get in touch with the nearby harbourmasters – there’s a chance they might have noticed someone bringing a boat in late last night. It’s not exactly normal behaviour.’

‘The call’s already gone in, Sir,’ Trew said, pleased.

‘Good. I’ve asked the boys at the station to put a notice in the local paper, asking if anyone gave a stranger a lift last night. Something may come of that. What else have you got here?’

‘Very little in terms of forensics, I’m afraid. The weather’s been so good lately, and all the paths are bone dry – there’s no chance of tracking any escape that way. One exception, though – you know the recess under the stage, where he must have waited?’ Penrose nodded, although he wasn’t prepared to rule out the possibility that they were looking for a woman. ‘Well, the sun doesn’t get right in there so it’s quite muddy at the back. We’ve got a clear footprint – left boot, patched with nails that look different from the ones on the sole. It’s not much to go on, and there’s not even anything to prove it’s our man – lots of people went in and out of there during the day, apparently – but I’ve had photographs and a cast done all the same. You never know.’

‘No, you don’t. Well done. No sign of a cast-off monk’s habit complete with laundry marks by any chance?’

Trew smiled. ‘I’m afraid not, Sir. Nor a signed confession placed carefully in that script you were using, but we’ll keep looking.’

‘Any progress on the audience lists?’

‘We’ve worked through as many as possible, but it’s taking a while. Everyone’s so shocked to find out that it wasn’t an accident and, as soon as murder comes into the frame, they fall into one of two categories: either they’re so anxious to oblige that they give you every detail down to what they had in their sandwiches, or so worried about getting mixed up in something that they couldn’t swear to anything, even their own name.’ He sighed, and Penrose was amused to see how quickly the young constable had acquired a world-weary approach to witnesses. ‘There’s still a few to go, but it’s very obvious that nobody remembers anything odd except that business between the dead man and the vicar.’

‘Yes, we’ll pay a visit to the rectory later,’ Penrose said. ‘It’s high time I caught up with my uncle.’ It was obvious from the startled look on Trew’s face that he hadn’t made the connection, and Penrose was quick to reassure him. ‘Don’t worry – there’s no love lost between us and it would be my great pleasure to wipe the self-satisfied smirk off his face, but I can’t believe that he’s capable of killing Nathaniel – physically, I mean, rather than morally. He’s just not fit enough to have got away so quickly.’

‘It’s a tall order for anyone, Sir. I tried it myself earlier, and I’d had it by the time I got to the top.’

‘Yes, it’s a steep climb. Still, it’s the only obvious hostility we’ve got towards Nathaniel at the moment, so we’d better make that a priority. Clearly there was something going on between them.’

‘And no one had better access to the costume that went missing from the vestry, I suppose.’

‘Exactly.’ Penrose walked back across the stage to the top of
the steps, and looked down to the path and cliffs below. Glancing back at the balustrade, he remembered something that Nathaniel had said as he left with Morveth to practise his leap into thin air. ‘There was supposed to be someone in position on the path to make sure that Nathaniel had a safe landing when he jumped,’ he said. ‘Have we any idea who it should have been?’

Trew looked at his notebook. ‘A man called Caplin, Sir. Joseph Caplin. Do you know him?’

‘Yes, he’s a farmer on the estate,’ said Penrose, surprised by the response. From what he’d seen of Caplin the night before, he was in no state to steady himself, let alone anyone else. He thought Morveth would have had more sense. ‘We’ll have to find out why he wasn’t there.’

‘Are you certain it couldn’t have been him, then, Sir?’

Trew’s question forced Penrose to analyse his assumption of Caplin’s innocence, and he reconsidered. ‘Well, I can’t immediately think of any reason why he’d want to hurt Nathaniel – but that’s true of most people. And I know he was drunk last night – too drunk to do anything in cold blood.’

‘Unless he was putting it on, Sir. Alcohol’s a great alibi if you do it convincingly enough.’

Penrose looked approvingly at him. ‘I like your scepticism, and you’re right, of course. We’ll add him to the list of calls. Oh – one thing I do have to report. Our missing van’s turned up.’ He repeated what Morwenna had told him about Loveday’s sudden illness. ‘There’s no reason to think that she’s lying,’ he added, anticipating Trew’s next question, ‘but we’ll look the van over when we go to see Jago Snipe.’ He took one last look around: there was nothing more to be learned here, and he couldn’t help feeling that the area which warranted their
attention was a few miles back along the coast. ‘We’ll go there first. Christopher Snipe’s disappearance has got to be a priority now, whatever’s behind it.’

‘Are you looking for him as a suspect or another potential victim, Sir?’ Trew asked as they walked back up the hill.

‘To be honest, I have absolutely no idea,’ Penrose admitted. ‘I can’t imagine what he’d have against Nathaniel or, if it’s the latter, why anyone would want them both dead. There’s no immediate link that I can see. Tell me honestly – what sort of resources can we rustle up for a search of the estate?’

‘Nothing like enough for an area that size.’

‘Then we’ll get the locals involved. My uncle William will help with that. We might as well start with the area around the church as it was the last place he was seen. I suppose, out of courtesy, we should let the Reverend Motley know before we go over his graveyard with a fine-tooth comb – that can wait until we see him later. It’ll take a while to get the search organised – realistically, we’re looking at first light tomorrow.’

‘What about the lake itself, Sir?’

Penrose’s heart sank, but he knew it was something he had to consider. ‘I can’t even begin to imagine dragging the Loe,’ he said. ‘It’s just too deep in some places. Legend aside, there’s no way we could get the better of it – it’s just not practical. Let’s hope for now that it won’t come to that.’

‘There is
one
thing they have in common – the curate and Christopher Snipe, I mean,’ Trew added thoughtfully. ‘They were both bearers at Pinching’s funeral recently, weren’t they? Perhaps we should look into their connection with him. I don’t want to be melodramatic about it, but I know you were there, too, Sir; if there’s a chance that the other bearers are in some kind of danger, perhaps we ought to warn them.’

‘It’s difficult not to sound melodramatic about the prospect of a psychopath stalking pallbearers,’ Penrose said, frustrated once again by the fact that he simply could not shake off the ghost of Harry Pinching. His words were more scathing than he had intended, though, and he tried immediately to soften their impact. ‘But it’s definitely something we should follow up. Let’s go carefully, though – Caplin, Jago and Kestrel Jacks were all here and unaccounted for last night, and one of them could easily be our man. We don’t want to show all our cards at once – God knows, there are few enough of them.’ He stopped by his car and took the keys from his pocket. ‘How did you get here?’

‘One of the patrol cars,’ Trew said, pointing to a group of vehicles parked by Minack House.

‘Get someone else to take it back and come with me now. It’s time we got some statements taken, and we’ll start with Jago – I want to know everything he can tell us about his son’s behaviour lately.’ Trew hesitated. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘Not really, Sir. It’s just that I’ve got my dog with me.’

Penrose laughed. ‘Then go and fetch him. There’s plenty of room for one more.’

Trew beamed and disappeared, returning a couple of minutes later with what looked like a typically well-trained Airedale terrier. ‘This is Treg, Sir,’ he said as Penrose knelt down to greet the dog. ‘It’s short for Tregeagle. Looks good as gold, doesn’t he? But if I don’t keep him busy, the devil takes him back.’ The dog looked adoringly up at his owner and jumped obediently into the back seat as if to disprove such a wicked slur on his character. ‘Seriously, though, he’s good company. It can be a lonely beat at times, and we fall between two workhouses, so we get a lot of tramps passing through.
They’ll try anything, given half a chance – but one bark from him and they think twice about it.’

‘They’d be wise to if he’s anything like the Airedales I’ve known,’ Penrose said, catching Treg’s eye in his rear-view mirror as he turned the car round and headed towards Penzance.

There was no reason to call in at the station again and, in any case, Penrose was keen to get back to the Loe estate. As he drove, he asked Trew about his work and his hopes for the future and, in the young man’s answers, he could not help but recognise the enthusiasm and determination that he himself had had for the job when he was twenty-five – and which, he was relieved to say, he still felt, at least most of the time. But if Angus Trew’s zeal was similar to his own, their reasons for turning to the force in the first place could not have been more different. It had never been Penrose’s first choice, but he remembered as if it were yesterday the anger and bitterness which had accompanied him home from war. By then, the naivety and good intentions with which he had set out on his medical career seemed laughable to him, and made him a figure of ridicule in his own eyes, and he had turned instead to policing – not because he wanted to fight evil, but simply because he knew that there would always be evil to fight. Evil and ignorance and selfishness. Perversely, in this sad realisation, he also found comfort and a reassurance that there was a place for him – as long as he wanted one – in a world which bewildered him with its injustice. He admired, perhaps even envied, Trew’s more positive reasoning, though; it reminded him of Nathaniel’s passionate belief in his own role amongst the community, at the same time as the cynic in him muttered that such dedication had hardly served the curate well.

Jago Snipe’s workshop was deserted, so they carried on through the village and reached the estate in good time. Penrose parked outside Loe House. ‘I need to make a quick call, so we’ll go inside for a minute,’ he said, ‘then we’ll try Jago at home and you can start to get a feel for this place. Something tells me we’ll be spending a bit of time here.’

‘I practically lived here as a lad,’ Trew said, looking affectionately out over the parkland.

‘Really? Are your family nearby then?’

‘They’ve moved out St Ives way now, but I grew up in Helston. There were five of us kids – I’m in the middle – and we used to come here a lot. Dad was away for most of the war, and Mum was pleased to have us out of the way for a bit.’ He blushed slightly. ‘If I’m honest, Sir, I think we might have had a rabbit or two from you in our time.’