The Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries 1-3 (4 page)

“Honestly, I only miss the TV, ah, telly when I run out of
good books.  I do however use the computer.”

“Me too.  It’s in my sitting room upstairs.  Bobby bought me
one to do the farm’s accounts on.  Don’t have Internet because it is long
distance out here, and they haven’t updated the lines to touchtone as of yet. 
Years behind, years behind.”

“I understand there is an Internet café in Penzance.”

“Yes, there is.  I hear you’re going to be sending Bobby
some pictures.  He said you were going to scan them?”

“My daughter Noelle is bringing a laptop computer, scanner,
and I have a digital camera.”

“I’d like to see how that works.”  Angie patted a high-back
cracked leather chair.  After I sat down she pushed a hassock up.  I put my
feet on it feeling quite the queen.  All that was missing...

“Scotch?”

“Please!”

“Ah, a woman that I can get along with.  I have a problem
with people that don’t drink.  I have lived so many years in this world not to
wonder if there is a day that wasn’t made better by a bit of spirits.”  She
poured two good size glasses.  I didn’t ask for ice.  She didn’t offer.  Angie
handed me the glass, clicking it once with hers.  “We’ll drink to my lazy good
for naught brother Bobby.”

I almost choked.  “Bobby.”  I raised my glass and quickly
brought it to my lips.  The Scotch was single malt, and the bite on it
satisfied every pore in my body.  My knees were immediately warm and the warmth
was spreading everywhere.

Angie sat down and poked at the fire.  “We’ll wait for the
grand tour when your daughter comes.  Oh, speaking of your daughter, she rang
up this morning.  Told me a Paisley person was dropping her off around noon.  The
Paisley girl was going to stay at the hostel out by Land’s End.  I quickly put
an end to that.  Young girl staying alone with all those wild kids from London,
I would never sleep! I have lots of room here, so I insisted Noelle and her
friend stay here.”

“I hope it won’t be too much, with the three of us.”

“I’m sure everyone will pitch in, here and there.”

“Sure, not a problem.”

“It will be like a pajama, pajama...” she fished for a word.

“Pajama party, slumber party,” I supplied.

“Yes, that will do fine.  Never did have more than Mother
and me here.  Females were scarce in my youth.  Father always had the lads in
from school.  Never another of the fair sex to talk to, although, some of the
lads were rather feminine.”  She slapped her knee and laughed at some memory.

“Musicians!”  I raised my glass.

“Musicians!  A happy lot.  A queer lot.  A difficult lot...”
Angie trailed off.  “Well, if you would excuse me.  I have some chores to see
to.  Your room is across from mine.  Blue carpet.  I’m going to put the young
legs up on the third floor in the old dormitory room.”  In a blur of blue jeans
and flannel Angie was gone.

I finished my Scotch, rinsed my glass and put it on the
drain board next to Angie’s abandoned one.  The kitchen looked like it had been
remodeled recently.  New cabinets were squeezed between tall yellow curtained
windows.  A large cutting board dominated one end of the room.  Behind it the
walls held large pantries with louvered doors.  A new stainless side-by-side
refrigerator dominated the back wall.  It shouted the twenty-first century at a
large aga cook stove, that said the nineteen thirties was just fine with it.  A
microwave disagreed in the corner, and it was at that point I thought I had
better head upstairs and unpack before they all broke out in song.  “What kind
of Scotch was that?” I said aloud as I hefted my bag up to the second floor in
search of a blue-carpeted room.

I wiggled my toes in the rich royal blue carpet as I sat in
the platform rocker and rocked.  The low squeak of the rocker gave me comfort
as I tried to sort out the past two days.  My accommodation was a corner room
with a north and a west window.  The view from the north window was dominated
by a beautiful shade tree that I had yet to identify.  The windows were long
and narrow, consistent with the ones in the kitchen.  Tied back from the
windows were the most beautiful yellow and blue Laura Ashley floral print
curtains.  They matched the coverlet on the massive four-poster bed. 

I avoided testing out the bed.  I knew once my head hit the
pillow I would be out for a good eight or nine hours.  Angie had cleared a
space in the wardrobe for my use.  Adjacent to the closet was a chest of
drawers with three drawers ajar.  I’m sure my hostess left them open with intent
to show me that they were empty and awaited my clothes.  I got up and started
to unpack.  My knees were still a bit rubbery, but the Scotch was losing its
control, which made thinking easier and easier.

How did I get from being an alto clarinet player looking for
a free ride to see her daughter to being a detective, and, if I was to believe
my own press, a damn good one?  I started to weigh the facts against the
fables, and it just confused me more.  It was true I had prior investigating
experience, but I had stumbled into most of it.

Maybe Bobby told Angie I was a professional, so she wouldn’t
be as disappointed that he didn’t come and clean this mess (papers and mystery)
up himself.

It may have been my paranoia, but I did feel that tan man
was following me at the airport.  I had the nagging suspicion that I would see
him again.  Perhaps because the neighbors are all talking about this big
hotshot detective coming to solve the mystery of Angie’s fire and attack. Gee,
wasn’t it nice of them to advertise.  I wondered how long it would take for me
to become a target.

I couldn’t let go of the question: “Why now?”  I pushed my
jet-lagged brain for answers that weren’t there.  What was happening or about
to happen that was triggering all of this?  What was I going to find or what
does the intruder fear I am going to find in the music school?  Is it a
valuable instrument?  No, why torch the place unless it would cover up the
loss?  Hmmm.  I hate it when something important depends on me.  I may be a
control freak, but when it comes to attempted murder I would rather the local
constables handle this.

I glanced out the window and saw the most beautiful sunset. 
The rolling hills caught the yellows and golds while the valleys were dipped in
crimson and indigo.  The sky was breathtaking, puffy clouds out over the coast
rose magically upwards.  I wished I painted, I wished I had a...I did have a
camera.  I dug through my travel tote and pulled the digital camera out.  Not
having read the instructions beforehand as Alex heavily suggested, I knew this
was going to be some trick.

I opened the window and tentatively tested the sill; it
looked like it might hold me.  I sat on it, leaned out and waited till I had
the shot I wanted and clicked.  I moved ahead and clicked again.  Two pictures
would be enough to experiment with.  I spent the next half an hour reading the
instructions in order to learn how to store the pictures.  Feeling quite
satisfied with myself, I put the camera away and headed downstairs.

Angie wasn’t in the house.  I thought I’d better go out and
see if there was anything I could do.  I seriously doubted a cow had to be
milked, which was fortunate because I didn’t know how to milk a cow.  Eggs
gathered?  I hope that was done in the morning.  I would hate to face a fowl in
the dark.  I walked outside and suspected, due to the lack of any pungent
aromas, that there were no animals that would test my lack of farm skills and
embarrass me.  I stopped and listened for any sound of chopping wood.  No.  All
I heard was a tractor.  Why would Angie still be tractoring or whatever one does
with a tractor after sunset?

I followed the sound.  It took me across the street.  I
climbed the hedgerow, which was no easy task, to get a better look.  I had just
finished navigating the top of the hedgerow when the moon cleared the clouds
and gave me a dim light by which to see a surreal tableau.  The tractor was
moving in a wide circle pulling a set of rotating blades.  I didn’t see anyone
on top of the tractor, but as it made an arc away from me I saw Angie’s body
dangling upside down from it.  Her head was a mere foot away from the blades.

I frantically looked for an entrance to the field.  The drop
from my perch would more result in my breaking several limbs than aiding
Angie.  I climbed back down and ran down the road looking for a break in the
flowered rocky wall.

“Come on. How did Angie get the tractor in there?” I
screamed in my head.  I was just about ready to give up and run the other way
when I spotted a break in the wall and steps worn into it.  I climbed over the
wall and ran, or tried to run, in the fresh tilled earth.  Every step seemed to
go in slow motion.  I didn’t know what I was going to do when I reached the
tractor, but right now I was having one hell of a time getting to it.  A stitch
in my side and one lost shoe later I drew up level with the circling machine.  Angie’s
belt had saved her from being tilled under.  Her head fortunately wasn’t
hitting the ground.  One of her arms dangled in the air, and it looked sound.  The
one dragging in the soil was a mess. I knew she didn’t have much time.

I thought I could pick her up and try to untangle her, but I
seriously doubted I could stay on my feet long enough to avoid the blades.  The
only solution was somehow I had to get on that tractor.  The main obstacle to
my intended heroics was the height of the machine.  I had no idea how the hell
I would get up there, let alone stop it.

It was the moan escaping from Angie that launched me.  I ran
and grabbed at the bottom of the seat.  My right foot found purchase, and soon
I was up in the driver’s seat.  “How do I turn you off?” I asked the tractor.  “Damn,
hey how do you like this?”  I pushed the gearshift forward and it slowed to a
stop, although it was still running.  I feared it might only be in neutral, and
as soon as I got down to help Angie it would roll over me.

“Fools and their arms and legs...” I jumped down.  I lifted
up Angie’s head, then her shoulders.  I held her in my arm until I could undo
her belt.  Once I had her free, I put her over my shoulder.  I looked for the
road.  Damn! It was too far for me to carry her.  The tractor was still
running, so I hefted both of us back onto it.  I carefully laid her across my
lap and pulled the gearshift back.  It made a horrible grinding sound, but it
did start to move.  I balanced Angie with one hand and with the other caused
major destruction of that field.  I found if I used the clutch the tractor
didn’t make that awful sound.  I turned the wheel and headed towards a light. 
I hoped it was Angie’s house.  It wasn’t.

The Comstocks later told me that they thought Angie had
tied-one-on and was joy riding.  It didn’t concern them until the tractor
headed into their fields.  I don’t know how I missed the hedgerows that
carefully separated most of the fields.  All I saw was a well-worn track and
followed it.  I followed it right up to the Comstocks’ back porch.  I was a bit
put off by Mrs. Comstock yelling at me for tilling up her flowerbed, backyard
and most of the early asparagus, but I forgave her.  She, however, would not
acquiesce.

A large young man jumped off the porch, came over and
reached up to turn the tractor off.  “How did you do that?” I asked.  He didn’t
answer me.  “Angie fell off the tractor.  I think it dragged her for some
time,” I explained.  

"Dad!” the young man called.  He jumped up and
carefully handed her down to the burly man that had arrived.

The woman stopped yelling at me and ushered her husband into
the house.  I tried to get up, but the young man was in the way.

“You’re not leaving this here,” he said gruffly.

“Hello, since I barely made it here and your mother is so
pissed about her asparagus, I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to do
anything with this machine, ever!”

“American?”

“Yes, and contrary to popular opinion, we don’t all drive
tractors.  Now...”

“Billy,” he supplied.

“Billy, could you help me down so I can see to my friend?”

He jumped down and helped me off the tractor.  I walked
towards the door Angie had disappeared into.  I felt gravel bite into my
shoeless foot, but I was beyond pain right now.  I was jet-lagged, my arm hurt,
my thighs would never talk to me again, and I had to pee.  I am surly when I
have to pee.  I found my way into the house and to where the couple was ministering
to Angie’s injuries.

Angie was lying on a couch.  Billy’s dad had done his best
to straighten her arm and tied it securely to a makeshift splint.  The
asparagus woman had cleaned up Angie’s face and was examining her head.

“Will, look here, looks like she just missed being shot in
the head.”

I pushed myself in, and sure enough there was a shallow
gully cutting through her scalp.  I could barely see it because of the dirt
that was mixed in with the blood.  In the dark on the field I hadn’t even known
she was bleeding.

“Who are you?  And why did you shoot Angie in the head?”
asparagus woman accused me.

“I didn’t shoot her.  I saved her.  At least I hope I did.” 
I looked at the couple that was still waiting. “Oh, I am...” why not, I
thought. “I’m the detective Bobby Bathgate sent.  Cindy Fin-Lathen.”

Angie moaned. 

“Sorry about the asparagus, but I just arrived and no one
ever taught me how to shift and tractoring and...”

“It’s alright...considering the emergency and all.  I’m Dorothy
Comstock and this is my husband Will.”

“Mrs. Comstock, where are we with her care?  Shouldn’t we
call an ambulance?” I fished.

“Helicopter’s already on its way.”

I sat back on my heels amazed.  And then I heard a roaring
overhead and the night sky lit up.  I walked out on the back porch to watch it
land.  Mrs. Comstock groaned as it landed, right in the asparagus.  I thought,
“Might as well, since I had already tilled most of it under.”

The medics stabilized Angie and asked me several hundred
questions of which I wasn’t much use.  Mrs. Comstock went with Angie to the
hospital in Truro.  I opted to stay back and wait for the constable that had
yet to arrive.  Needing fresh air I left the house and eased myself down on the
back porch.  I knew somewhere in the dark there were chairs, but with my fatigue
growing I couldn’t chance it.

“Cindy?”  Will Comstock called from the kitchen. “Whisky?”

“Fine,” I answered. I almost sang it as I was so pleased at
finally finding some Cornwall hospitality.

He handed me a pint jar full of amber liquid.  He had even
come up with ice cubes.  In England ice for drinks is almost a myth.

“Bless you.  For this you can call me Cin.”

“Cin, do you mind if the boy and I join you?”

I brushed off a yard of porch next to me.  Will and Billy
sat down.  We hung our legs over the end and drank in silence.  I suspected
this wasn’t normal behavior when the missus was around, but I knew it was far
too late to get into Mrs. Comstock’s good graces.  I might as well corrupt the
men of the household while I was at it.

The night air smelled of asparagus and fresh turned soil. 
It was a crisp night, but with the warmth that was being generated by the
whisky flowing through my veins I didn’t feel a thing.

“I normally walk up to the door and introduce myself,” I
began.  “I actually hoped I was heading for Bathgate.  I saw your light and
headed for it.”

“What light? Billy did you leave the yard light on?”

“No, sir.”

“Maybe it was the moon?” Will volunteered.

“Nope, moon was over my shoulder. Gee, I could have sworn
there was a light.”

I heard the sound of wheels crunching in the driveway and a
small blue car made its way around to the back of the house.

“That would be Constable Cayne.  Be nice to him.  He isn’t
too smart.”

“Ann Cayne’s husband?”

“Oh, you met Ann?” he asked as he got up to greet the
constable.

“On the bus this afternoon.  Lord, it feels like a week has
gone by.”

“Tilling does that to yah,” Billy snickered as he followed
his father.

I waited on the porch.  I hope I didn’t need my passport. 
It was back at Bathgate, and I didn’t know where Bathgate was right now. 
Constable Cayne walked gingerly towards me. I took another drink and tried to
straighten up.  It was a wasted effort.

“Ms. Fin-Lathen?”

“Yes, I’m Cindy Fin-Lathen.”

Ann’s husband wasn’t a bit intimidating.  He was a small,
thin man who I imagined must be more comfortable with sitting behind a desk
than being outdoors.  He swatted uncomfortably at the night insects that were
trying to get comfortable with him.  “Can you tell me what went on this evening
over at Bathgate?”

“Sure, do you want to write this down?”

The constable patted himself down until he found a pen.  A
little notebook appeared out of his back pocket.  “Go ahead.”

“I met Angie about six this evening.  We sat down and
talked.  She went out to finish some chores and I headed upstairs to unpack.  I
came back down right after sunset. I couldn’t tell you exactly when because my
watch is still on Florida time.  Angie wasn’t in the house, so I went looking
for her.  I found her...are you getting all of this?”

Constable Cayne looked up from his furious scribbling.  “Yeah,
I am. Learnt this shorthand at business school.  Go ahead.”

“I found Angie dangling from her tractor in the field across
the road from the house.”

“Did yah call anyone?”

“I didn’t have time, besides I just got here.  Who would I
call?”

“Good point.”

“I ran out and managed to stop the tractor.  I untangled
Angie.  She was caught up in the metal because of her belt.”

“Hold on a minute.  Angie was what?”

“Billy, where did you put the tractor?”

“It’s back there beyond the asparagus.” 

“Do you have a flashlight?”

“What?”

“Flashlight, ah, light, ah...” I looked at Billy.

“She means a torch.”

“I have a torch.”

I hopped off the porch, tried not to scream as my muscles
woke up and limped in the direction of the tractor.  “Come on.  Bring your
torch, and I will show you.”  I heard him run back to the car.  Doors opened
and slammed for a few minutes before he found his torch.  I was already at the
tractor by the time he found good batteries and the torch was lit.

He tried to hold the light and write.  This was almost too
much for me.  I didn’t want to laugh at him.  Besides, Will told me to be
kind.  “Here give it to me.”  I kicked the dirt until I had a nice base in which
to place the torch so it would illuminate the tractor and tiller.  “Angie was
upside down being held up here,” I pointed to the side fender of the tractor,
“by her belt.  I got her loose and put her over my shoulder and climbed back on
the tractor and drove it here for help.”

“Wow. Over your shoulder,” he said awestruck.

“Yes, she wasn’t that heavy.”

“Still...how did you know you could find help here?”

“I didn’t.  I just aimed the tractor towards a light and
prayed I was right.”

“When did you know Miss Bathgate had been shot?”

“Not until Mrs. Comstock examined her.”

“Do you know who would try to hurt Miss Bathgate?”

“No, I just got here.  I understand she was attacked
before.”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Do you have any idea who attacked her before?” I asked.

“Nah...no...not presently.”

“Do you know what I think?” I said softly.

“What?”

“That the fire, the previous attack and tonight’s attempted
murder were done by the same person.”

“I...I can see that.  The Chief Superintendent will want to
talk to you but not tonight.  He’s at his granddaughter’s recital.”

“I’ll be at Bathgate.”

“Hey, did you meet that lady that Ann rode the bus with?”

“Lady?”

“She bought Ann and Marjorie tea.  Rich lady.  Maybe she had
something to do with Angie.  I think she said her name was sin...S I N.”

“Constable Cayne, I’m Cindy Fin-Lathen, Cin, C I N for
short.”

“Yeah?” Blank brown eyes looked at me.

“I’m the same lady that was on the bus.”

“Oh, I see. You was in disguise.”  He was awestruck again.

I caught the laugh and swallowed it.  “Can’t fool you can
I.”

“Nah, been a constable for nearly five years now.”  He
pushed at the dirt.  “What was we talking about?”

“I was telling you that you could reach me at Bathgate.”

“Yes, I will be by tomorrow to drive you in.  I’ll call
first.”  He started to leave and tripped over something in the dark.  I didn’t
say anything.  I just reached down, picked up the torch and handed it to him.

I walked back to the porch and found my whisky glass had
been refilled.  I sat down and took a deep drink.  Will waited until Constable
Cayne left before coming out.

“Dorothy called. Said Angie woke up at the hospital.”

“That is wonderful!”  I raised my glass, Will clinked it.

“There’s more.”

“Quit teasing me and tell me.”  Yes, I had too much to drink
and it was showing.  One shouldn’t flirt with a Cornishman. 

“Angie has a broken arm.  And she has a headache, but that
is all the damage the bullet did.  They want to keep her overnight.  Angie’s
fit to be tied.  She is real concerned that your daughter and her friend are
coming and the house isn’t ready.  Women.”

“The house is fine.  I’m concerned for her safety though. 
Tell me, can you reach this Chief Superintendent?”

“Not till after the recital.”

“Well after the recital, tell him I need to talk to him.”

“You weren’t much impressed with Cayne, huh?”

“He’s a nice person but...”

“I am in complete agreement.”  He took another drink. 
”Don’t worry, the Chief Superintendent will impress you.  Are you going to
drive the tractor home?  Billy took the car to pick up Dorothy.”

“No. Just point me in the right direction and I can walk.”  Now
that was the whisky talking. 

Will pointed.  “Just head straight up the hill, keeping this
house to your back.  When you get to the top, look for the three bluish
lights.  That’s Bathgate.” 

“Sounds easy.”  That was the whisky thinking.

Will being a gentleman and all walked me as far as the
tractor.  He offered me a torch.  I said I couldn’t hold my drink and a torch,
so I left the torch with him.  I was halfway up the hill before I considered
Angie’s assailant might still be out there.  I took another deep drink and it
didn’t bother me anymore.  When I got to the top of the hill I scanned the
valley.  Three bluish lights were down the hill and to the right of me. 
Halfway down I pondered whether the tan man was waiting for me at the house. 
It was a big house.  I wonder why it didn’t have a dog.  A farm with no dog? 
Sad.  I finished off the whisky and tripped over something in the field.  I
looked down to find my missing shoe.  It was ruined. Justice had been done.  As
I had tilled under the asparagus so fate had me till under my shoe.  I picked
it up and stuck it in my back pocket.  I’d give it to a dog, but there wasn’t
one.

It took me three passes to find the steps over the
hedgerow.  I was so pleased with my balance on the way up that I just plain
lost it on my way down.  I heard the pint jar hit the ground but it didn’t
break.  I fumbled around until I found it and walked up the road to the house.