The Valley of the Shadow (32 page)

“That’s British Petroleum. Oil tankers and such.”

“And what exactly does ‘Acting Captain’ mean?”

“It could mean the captain fell overboard en route and the first officer took over. Sometimes if the ship doesn’t call at her home port, the captain will have a tender take him off as they pass and leave the mate to bring her in to her destination. In this case— That’s the
Pendennis Point
you’re talking about? That would be Captain Avery, a local gentleman. Avery Shipping, you’ll have noticed. He lives just across the river. He probably went ashore as soon as they docked and left his first mate to complete the formalities.”

Or perhaps he was met by his yacht in mid-Channel and went aboard along with a company of refugees. “Is Stuart Vandon a local resident?”

“I couldn’t say, I’m sure. Avery Shipping will have his address, of course.”

“Yes, of course. Thanks.” Megan went back to Ken. “You heard? Any more questions will confirm her suspicion it’s the Averys we’re after.”

Miss Lewis was watching them. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Officer? If not, there’s a coffee machine downstairs while you’re waiting for the harbourmaster. I’ll let you know as soon as he’s able to see you.”

Ignominiously dismissed, they went downstairs and found the machine. A shilling or five new pence bought a plastic cup of coffee, tea, or hot chocolate, all dispensed through the same nozzle. Megan had chocolate, knowing from experience that it best disguised the taste of the others. She let Ken get his coffee first.

He took a sip and grimaced. “I sometimes think the worst thing about being a copper is the amount of truly disgusting coffee and tea we drink.”

“I dunno. It’s cheering in a way to find that so many other people are stuck with coffee just as bad as we get at the nick.”

They took their drinks outside, to stand in the sun where they could see the big ships and therefore, presumably, the harbourmaster on his return.

“Don’t you think we have enough information already to tackle the Averys directly?” Ken proposed.

“I’d say yes if it wasn’t that we have a very good chance of getting more soon and quite easily. Where the
Pendennis Point
had been, for instance, and whether it stopped at Mombasa on the way back.”

“She. Aren’t ships always
she
?”

“I simply can’t seriously talk about the
Pendennis Point
as if it was female. A confirmation that
it
carried wool would be useful, specially if Captain Edwards can tell us how to find out about the marks on the bales that Jay and the others noticed. We may be able to persuade him to tell us a bit more about Captain Avery and the rest of the family. If Chaz is a typical example, I’m not impressed.”

“Edwards may be a friend of the family, in a place like this.”

“But we have to ask,” Megan insisted.

“It’s your case.”

They finished the drinks and bunged the cups in a litter bin. The sunny afternoon was clouding over and held an autumnal chill. They decided to walk towards the wharves, hoping to meet the harbourmaster. Several ships of varying sizes were berthed there. Men and cranes were at work loading two and unloading another as lorries came and went. A third ship was being painted. The farthest away, Megan guessed, was the one having trouble with its papers. There were also two in dry dock, one being built, one repaired, as far as she could make out.

At last a man in navy blue approached them, a sheaf of papers in his hand. The sleeves of his reefer jacket had gold stripes at the wrists and his cap had a badge with a gold oak wreath and crown, reminding Megan of Pal’s description of the captain of the freighter.

She stepped forwards. “Captain Edwards?”

“Yes?”

“We’re police detectives, sir. We have an appointment with you. I’m DS Pencarrow, and this is my colleague, DS Faraday.”

He was obviously disconcerted to be faced with a woman detective. “Ah, indeed, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. Let’s go up to my office.” He fell into step beside Ken, and as they walked, complained to him about the difficulty of dealing with ships registered under flags of convenience, usually Liberia or Panama.

Ken made polite, noncommittal noises. Megan wondered whether she ought to leave the coming interview to him, given the harbourmaster’s obvious preference. But as Ken said, it was her case. Though he’d read the reports and talked it over with her, he couldn’t possibly be as much in command of all the ins and outs as she was.

Entering Edwards’s office, Megan studiously avoided admiring the view, which he’d probably regard as a typical feminine distraction. When he waved them to seats in front of his desk, backs to the windows, Ken cooperated by moving his chair farther to one side and to the rear. He took out his notebook. She threw him a grateful glance and dived in.

“Captain, we’re investigating a serious crime. Two people are dead. I hope we can count on your cooperation.”

“Of course, of course, though I can’t imagine how I can possibly help you.”

“That’s for us to find out, sir.” Go for the simple, unfraught stuff first. “Your secretary has kindly given us a list of the ships in port at the relevant time, including previous port of call. Do you keep records of where they started out from, where they called on the way, and their cargoes?”

“Only the origin of any freight unloaded here, and what it consisted of. I take it you’re interested in one particular vessel, not the whole list Miss Lewis supplied?”

“The
Pendennis Point,
sir.”

He frowned. “The Averys’ ship. Under Captain Paul Avery’s command.”

“Yes, sir, but we understand Captain Avery was not aboard when it … she arrived in Falmouth.”

“Ah, yes. He ought to have gone through the formalities, but an old local family, you know … No doubt one of them came across the river and picked him up when they docked.”

“Perhaps.”

“You’re suggesting he left sooner?” Edwards shifted uneasily. “The pilot will know, of course, and the records will tell you which pilot brought her in.”

“We’ll need to take a look at those records, sir.”

“If you must.” He spoke to Miss Lewis on his intercom, asking her to bring the relevant file, then turned to Ken and asked, slightly plaintively, “What on earth is this all about, eh? Has that rascally crew of lascars they insist on employing been smuggling drugs? They should stick with British seamen.”

Ken refrained from pointing out that British seamen were quite as adept at drug smuggling as lascars. “I’m afraid I can’t say, sir.” He looked at Megan, firmly returning the ball to her.

“An old local family, you say, sir. Can you tell me a bit about the Averys, please?”

“Good heavens, surely you’re not suggesting—”

“I’m not making any suggestions, sir, I’m asking for information. I can undoubtedly get it elsewhere, but since we’re here—” She stopped as Miss Lewis came in with a manila folder. When she held out her hand for it, the secretary automatically gave it to her. She passed it to Ken. He’d be able to dig out the details they wanted and listen at the same time.

Miss Lewis left.

“The Averys, sir?”

“Yes, well … They go back at least to the middle of the last century, you know. Started out in shipbuilding, quite successfully, then turned to running their own fleet. With equal success, to all appearances.”

“How big a fleet?”

“Five middle-size freighters, all named after local headlands. They go all over the world, but they’re not tramp steamers, picking up a load here and there. Everything’s planned. Captain Avery—Captain Perran Avery—served his time on the ships, as Captain Paul is doing now, but he’s a very shrewd businessman.” The harbourmaster’s lips folded in disapproval, unconscious, Megan thought.

Disapproval of shrewdness in business? Or of Captain Paul Avery? Captain Edwards seemed disinclined to elucidate.

“Captain Paul will take over the business side sooner or later?”

“Doubtless.”

Megan changed tack. “Are the Averys friends of yours, sir?”

“I’m a local man myself. I’ve known
of
them all my life, seen them out and about, and since I’ve been harbourmaster I’ve come to know them quite well. Captain Avery comes in on business, and of course I see Captain Paul every time his ship comes or goes. I’ve been invited to their house a number of times.”

“Is that where they keep the yacht?”

“
Andromeda
? They have a mooring just offshore.”

“Then they must have a dinghy to get to it … her.”

“Yes, a rowboat. They have a speedboat, too, and the boy has his own outboard sailing dinghy.”

“Ah yes, the boy. That would be Chaz? I’ve met him.” Given her profession, Megan’s pause lent significance to the words. She hoped the harbourmaster knew Chaz smoked pot. It wouldn’t hurt to mislead him a little, let him believe it was Chaz they were interested in, especially after he himself had introduced the topic of drugs. “Captain Paul is his uncle, is that right?”

“Yes, but he wouldn’t have anything to do with the stuff. With drugs. I’d’ve said his choice of poison is alcohol. I mean … I don’t mean to say he drinks on the job, mind. A boozy skipper can be a nightmare, a horrible accident waiting to happen, unless he has a competent mate who’s willing to take the responsibility without the perks and … well…”

“Cover up for him? But you say that’s not the case with Captain Paul?”

“Absolutely not!” Edwards became confidential. “You won’t spread it about, of course, but what I hear is, he goes completely off course when he comes home.”

“Off course, sir?”

“On the spree. More like a proper bender, you might say. Booze and the gee-gees. Last time, Captain Avery rescued him from some nasty types—bookies … Daresay you know all about that sort of thing. Mr. Rupert had to go and fetch him from Newmarket and there was a pretty penny paid out, I gather. Chap doesn’t seem able to control himself. Jolly poor show.”

“So you’re saying, on shore Captain Paul is impulsive, shows poor judgment, and is inclined to get into debt?”

“Well, it sounds rather bad when you put it like that. Pity. He’s an excellent shipmaster. All the same, it’s not surprising Captain Avery doesn’t want to give up the helm—of the company, that is.”

“It wouldn’t surprise you, then, if Captain Paul, after—what? weeks? months?—without drinking or gambling, was unable to resist the impulse to go on a binge regardless of the consequences?” Was she pressing too hard? The harbourmaster was turning out to be a goldmine.

“Er … hmm … Two deaths, you mentioned? I wouldn’t be talking to you like this if you hadn’t said…”

“I can’t tell you any more about that, sir, but you may see something on the television news this evening.” If Skan’s article had been picked up. But Dave Skan knew nothing yet about the Averys, or so Megan hoped.

Captain Edwards sighed unhappily. “Who knows what a chap like that will do? Even the best families—”

His intercom intercepted the inevitable “black sheep.” Miss Lewis announced the arrival of a Mr. Lloyd, with whom he had an appointment.

“Yes, yes, I’ll be with him in a minute.” He clicked off the machine and stood up. Megan and Ken likewise rose to their feet. “I can’t spare you any more time, I’m afraid. If there’s anything more, Miss Lewis can help you, no doubt. Er … You won’t mention to Captain Avery that you’ve been talking to me about his family?”

“I don’t foresee the necessity, sir.” Megan decided thanking him for being helpful would only worry him. “We’re grateful for your time. Sergeant Faraday, have you got any quick questions?”

“Just one.” Ken laid the folder on Edwards’s desk. “Is Captain Paul’s ship in port at present or is he on his way to the far side of the world?”

*   *   *

“Damn!” said Megan, as they walked to the car, “I should have thought of that.”

“Well, yes, but you didn’t miss much. You can always go back if it seems necessary. In the end, I think he spoke more freely to you than he would have to me.”

“Because he doesn’t take women seriously. Anything you say to them goes straight through their pretty little heads and out the other side, so why worry? No need to mind your tongue. By the way, you did a good job of disappearing in there.”

“It’s a useful talent at times. We’re lucky Paul hasn’t sailed yet.”

“Very. I’d hate to have to tell the boss we’ve got to call in Interpol.” They reached the car and got in, Megan behind the wheel. “Speaking of whom, I ought to check in. But we’re probably out of Launceston’s radio area. I don’t want to go through the local cop shop and I don’t want to go looking for a public phone.”

“Any excuse…!”

“To the Averys’ house now, don’t you think?”

“Yes. There’s a lot of sheer slog left, collecting the details, but we know where to dig. I for one am now convinced we have our sights on the right man.”

“It does look like it. Car or foot ferry, or drive the long way round?”

It was knocking-off time, and they got caught up in a stream of cars and bikes leaving the docks.

“Drive round,” said Ken. “Though the ferry’s tempting, in this traffic there’ll be a long queue, I expect. We might want the car. It doesn’t seem likely we’ll be ready to invite him to the Falmouth nick to answer Twenty Questions, but you never know. I can’t see bringing him over on foot on a public ferry.”

“Not on your life! Have we got enough on him to caution him?”

“Let’s put it all together and see. For a start, according to the bumf in that folder, the
Pendennis Point
had one hold full of wool from New Zealand and picked up a load of ivory in Mombasa.”

“You don’t say!”

They discussed how the harbourmaster’s revelations fitted with all the information previously gathered, as Megan drove through Falmouth and Penryn and turned down the narrow road leading to Flushing.

Miss Lewis had given them directions to the Averys’ house. Beyond the village, the road narrowed to a lane serving only a few large houses surrounded by trees, lawns, and shrubbery. Between the trees, Megan glimpsed the river, with a veil of mist now rising from the surface. When they reached the white house with multiple gables, she turned into the drive and parked well to one side, out of the way of the multivehicle garage. They walked down to the front door and Ken rang the bell.