It was a typical reaction from a parent whose child had gone missing, but Penrose couldn’t help wondering if it really was Jago’s imagination or if Christopher had in fact been there for reasons of his own. Just suppose that Nathaniel had said something to him in private, unbeknown to Jago; it was difficult to guess what Christopher’s reaction would have been, but the undertaker had painted a picture of a lonely boy, whose most important relationship was with his father. What might he be capable of if he was in shock and feared that that bond was about to be taken away from him? He could have faked his own disappearance, then come to the Minack in secret to get rid of the problem once and for all. He was young and strong, and certainly fit enough to have got away from the scene without being caught. ‘Christopher was supposed to help you at the Minack, wasn’t he?’
‘Yes. He was going to give me a hand with the scenery.’
‘Was he in the play as well?’
‘No, he didn’t want to be.’
‘So he didn’t have a costume?’
Jago looked bewildered by the question. ‘No, he didn’t need one.’
But he
‘You don’t think he had anything to do with Nathaniel’s death, do you?’ Jago’s horror was obvious, but Penrose could not tell if it was because he believed Christopher to be capable or incapable of such a thing. ‘It’s because of what Jacks told you about that business with Harry, isn’t it?’ the undertaker continued. ‘That’s why you think he could do something like that. It’s completely different, though, Archie. You said it yourself – that was a childish tantrum gone wrong. This is cold-blooded murder, and Christopher couldn’t do that any more than I could.’
‘Was there any animosity between Christopher and Nathaniel? Any obvious change in their relationship?’
‘No. They didn’t see a lot of each other and, after what Morveth told me, I kept Christopher away from him as much as possible.’
Morveth again, Penrose thought. It was odd that she seemed to be in control of everything, and he had no doubt now that she had removed Caplin from that post under the recess for reasons other than safety. Nathaniel was naive and desperately wanted to do the right thing by his parishioners; Morveth would not have risked leaving him on his own with Caplin if she thought he knew the truth about Christopher’s parentage and was tempted to reveal it. He remembered how she had interrupted his own conversation with Nathaniel, and how she and Jago had seemed so wary of him at Harry’s wake. Until this visit, he would have believed Morveth incapable of anything but kindness and wisdom, but he also knew how strong she was; if Nathaniel had made one discovery too many, she might act quickly to save the families she loved from harm, and it was just about feasible that she could have committed the murder and melted back into the performance. After all, the crime relied more on surprise than on strength, and Nathaniel would certainly not have expected her to turn against him. But where did that leave Christopher? It was time they paid Morveth a visit, Penrose thought; he and Trew would head into the village as soon as they’d finished with his uncle Jasper. He had heard all he needed to from Jago for the time being.
With good timing, Trew cleared his throat tactfully from the door to the stairs and Penrose signalled for him to join them again. ‘I’d like you to give PC Trew a full description of what Christopher was wearing when he went missing,’ he said to Jago as he stood up to leave. ‘And a recent photograph if you’ve got one. It would be helpful if we could borrow a piece of Christopher’s clothing – something that he’s worn.’ He could tell from the look on the older man’s face that he didn’t need to explain why such an item was needed. ‘It’s still early,’ he added, ‘and we won’t give up hope of finding him alive until we have evidence to the contrary. I meant what I said – we’ll do everything we can.’ Jago nodded, but Penrose could see that he was on the point of giving up. He could hardly imagine a greater torment for the undertaker than the uncertainty of it all. His whole life had been dedicated to giving people some sort of finality in the midst of their grief – some sort of hope, even. The rituals of burial brought comfort if you were lucky enough to believe in them, and Jago had looked after a whole community – the living and the dead – for forty years or more. It seemed a very cruel twist of fate that he of all people should be denied that solace. ‘While you’re fetching those for us, do you mind if I have a look at your van?’ he asked gently. ‘I gather Morwenna borrowed it last night and Morveth returned it to you this morning.’
‘That’s right,’ Jago said. ‘Help yourself – you know where it is.’
He went through to the next room, and Penrose looked at Trew. ‘We’ll talk outside when you’ve got the description. Don’t forget…’
‘The boots, Sir,’ Trew said before he could finish, and smiled. ‘Don’t worry – I won’t.’
Penrose went out into the lane and opened the door on the passenger side of Jago’s Ford. There, on the seat, was a small trace of blood – very faint, but unmistakeable if you knew what you were looking for. The case had moved on, but he was still relieved to find something that bore out Morwenna’s account of Loveday’s troubles and their hurried departure from the Minack the night before. He looked carefully over the rest of the car but found nothing of any interest, and went back to his own vehicle to wait impatiently for Trew.
Chapter Sixteen
Josephine sat at the desk in the Lodge, wondering how best to approach the unenviable task with which Archie had left her. Even if she managed to see Loveday, she felt uneasy about probing the girl for information behind a mask of friendship; there was a Greeks-bearing-gifts quality to it which she felt sure that Morwenna would see straight through. Still, at least it gave her something to do. She had struggled her way through a brief first chapter, and the unfortunate blonde on the beach was now in the safe hands of the coastguard; with the police on their way, she felt happy to leave it there for now. She was long practised at recognising the sort of day when words were hard to come by, and she knew that staring at a blank sheet of paper would simply make things worse; it was better for her – and for those around her – if she walked away and did something else. If only by the law of averages, the work would be less bloody tomorrow.
Reprieved by her own arguments, she took off her glasses and stared out across the lake. Today, with the deterioration in the weather, the Loe was a different creature altogether, its surface rippled by the wind and its beauty much less at odds with the legends that surrounded it. The wildfowl which had previously bathed in sunlit open waters chose to carry out their business around the edges of the water, sheltered by reed beds or by the tangles of willow and alder which punctuated the bank at regular intervals. Observing them, Josephine was distracted by a movement near the boathouse. How long had Morwenna been there? She must have been too engrossed in her work to notice her arrival, but she watched now as the figure stood alone and pensive in the place where she had unwittingly said a final goodbye to her brother. It began to rain softly – the sort of misty rain that feels so insignificant and soaks to the skin within seconds – but Morwenna did not turn to leave or make any attempt to find somewhere more sheltered, and Josephine saw her chance: it would seem far more natural to ask her about Loveday here than to turn up unannounced at their cottage and demand admittance. She edged a disgruntled Motley Penrose gently off her lap, collected a pair of umbrellas from the rack in the hallway and went outside, wondering what on earth she was going to say.
Morwenna must have heard the sound of footsteps on the gravel behind her but she did nothing to acknowledge Josephine’s approach, and Josephine hesitated slightly, caught between her promise to Archie and her natural reluctance to intrude upon someone’s solitude. She could, of course, take the coward’s way out; Morwenna showed no sign of hurrying back to Loe Cottage and Josephine might easily be able to see Loveday now without her ever knowing, but she did not want to risk getting the girl into trouble and she needed time to talk to her properly. It was tempting, but she rejected the underhand route and made her way down the grass bank to the water. ‘I’ve brought you this,’ she said, tentatively holding out the umbrella. ‘It looks set in for the day now.’ Morwenna ignored her, and even Josephine acknowledged that such a ridiculous comment wasn’t worthy of a response: what difference could a spot of rain possibly make to this woman’s landscape? She dispensed with the small talk, which was as alien to her as it was unwelcome to Morwenna, and tried again. ‘How’s Loveday? Archie said she wasn’t well.’
At last, Morwenna turned round. ‘If you know that, then I’m sure you know everything,’ she said with a disquieting matter-of-factness, ‘including why I’d like some time here on my own. If you want to visit Loveday, be my guest. She’s at the cottage, and I’m sure she’d love to see you. Let’s face it, she’d love to see anyone who isn’t
