The Coniston Case (10 page)

‘That would be helpful.’

Simmy gnashed her teeth a little as she realised she would be late home and therefore neglecting Kathy. She ought to make an effort to provide a meal, or take her out to a characterful local hostelry. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘About quarter to six, then.’

The shop bell rang before he could say more and she put the phone down. Two people were standing there – a man and a woman. She knew the man and gave him a wide smile. The woman, she supposed, was just a customer.

‘Caught you at last!’ said Ninian Tripp. ‘It’s been
weeks
since I saw you.’

But the other person rushed forward and drowned him out. ‘Simmy! Remember me? Joanna Colhoun. Kathy’s daughter. You’ve got to help me – I think my mum’s got herself into some serious trouble.’

‘Whoa! Slow down,’ Simmy ordered, as Joanna started some tangled tale of missed communications and sudden surprises. ‘Where’s Kathy now?’

‘That’s just it. I have no idea. She called me this morning before nine, and we agreed to meet in Coniston for an early lunch. I had no idea she was up here, checking up after me. I wasn’t very nice to her. I’m terribly
busy
, you see. There’s such a lot to
do
, and not nearly enough time for it all. But I said I’d try to be down in the village to meet her a bit before mid-day, and then Baz said I had to stay where I was, and get all the data onto the laptop. Mum said she’d explore for a while so I left her to her own devices. I mean – she should have
said
she was coming.’

‘She was worried about you. You’d gone quiet, after saying you were having some problems. Just what is it you’re doing up there, anyway?’

‘I can’t explain it now. Baz has a theory about climate
data, basically, and we’re trying to test it out. But there’s more to it than that. Those old copper mines are really awesome, you know. We’ve been trying to find time to explore them as well.’

Simmy did a double take at this apparent non sequitur, and chose to stick to the main issue. ‘So what’s the problem with Kathy? She can’t have been gone for long. It’s not two yet.’

‘Long enough,’ said Joanna ominously. ‘In fact, it’s
hours
, now. She sent a text at half past eleven, that said, “Car misbehaving. Am awaiting RAC.” And then when I tried to call her back, the phone was dead. Not even voicemail. I mean – she needs the phone for the RAC man to tell her when he’s coming. They call you back constantly, to make sure you’re happy.’

‘The car seemed fine yesterday.’ Simmy visualised the rather impressive blue Subaru, with 2011 plates. ‘It’s almost new, isn’t it?’

‘She bought it new. Cost a fortune. It’s probably something electrical,’ said Joanna vaguely. ‘There’s so much to go wrong, isn’t there.’

Simmy chewed her lip thoughtfully. ‘It does sound strange,’ she agreed. ‘Knowing Kathy, she’s probably got some fabulous up-to-the-minute phone, that she keeps on all the time.’

‘Right. They never just
die
. It must be broken, like the car. I thought maybe she’d come back here to have lunch with you and you’d gone on the lake or somewhere and she’d dropped the phone. Something like that. She told me about you and the shop and the drama of last night.’ She rubbed her forehead, as if in pain. ‘I’m really scared, to be
honest. If there’s a murderer out there, I’m right to worry, aren’t I? Especially given what’s been happening to me and Baz and the others. Somebody’s really trying to stop what we’re doing. They seem to think we’re about to uncover some deep dark secret.’

‘And are you?’

‘If we are, it’s nothing for anybody to worry about now.’

Ninian was standing aside, listening lazily to what was being said. Simmy turned to him for a contribution. ‘What do you think?’ she prompted.

‘Me? I’m not here to
think
, am I? I think someone’s gone missing for a couple of hours, and someone else is in a flap about it.’ He smiled. ‘Happens quite a lot around here. Always has. She’ll have been taken by goblins, I shouldn’t wonder.’

Simmy laughed, knowing she shouldn’t. It was a reference to
The Princess and the Goblin
, by George MacDonald. In the week after Christmas, when she had been recovering from an injury, Ninian had brought her books and stayed to talk, day after day. They had discovered a shared delight in that particular book from childhood. A friendship had been forged, or so Simmy had thought. But when her shop had reopened in the New Year and winter had settled firmly onto the fells and pikes of Cumbria, Ninian had fallen quiet, presumably in hibernation in his secluded little cottage above Bowness, and Simmy had scarcely seen him for weeks.

‘What?’ said Joanna. She suddenly looked dreadfully young – even younger than Ben, who was at least four years her junior. A transparent suspicion that she was being teased by Ninian made her sulky.

‘Sorry,’ said Simmy. ‘That was mean of us. But really, I
think Kathy can take care of herself. There’s no reason at all to worry about her. She might have got the car fixed and be off exploring somewhere.’

‘No, no.’ Joanna clenched her fists. ‘She wouldn’t send that text and then just go silent. Nobody would do that. Would they?’

Simmy was forced to agree. ‘Probably not. Okay, Jo. I can see you’re really in a tizz about it. I can call the police, if you like. I’ve been … involved with them this week, anyway.’

The girl grimaced. ‘Actually … I’m not sure … the thing is … Baz isn’t going to want police people interfering with the project. There’s been enough bother already, without that.’ She shifted uneasily and her cheeks flushed pink. ‘I can’t really explain.’

‘You’re not trespassing, are you?’ Simmy tried to remember the details of what Kathy had told her the day before. ‘Wasn’t there something about you being driven off by local landowners?’

‘No, that wasn’t it at all. It’s common land. We’re not disturbing anything. We did intend to pitch a tent on the site, but ended up in a guesthouse.’

‘In Bowness, right? Isn’t that a terribly long way from Coniston? Couldn’t you find anywhere closer?’

‘We’re not in Bowness now. That was just the first night, while we got organised.’ Again she seemed uncomfortable.

‘Something else is going on,’ Simmy realised. ‘Something about you and this Baz person.’ The obvious explanation hit her between the eyes. ‘You’ve fallen for him. Is that it?’ She remembered Kathy saying something of the sort.

Joanna smiled hesitantly and confirmed everything
Simmy had been thinking. ‘You could say that. We’ve been in the same digs for a few days, and last night – well, you know. It’s not a problem. But the thing is, it’s totally against the college rules. We don’t want my mum to know too much about it just yet. I mean, she knows I’m keen on him, because I talked about him all through the Christmas vac, but she’d never dream he’d … reciprocate. I know it’s not very sensible. But Baz is so …’ she sighed and cast her eyes upwards. ‘Charismatic,’ she finished.

‘Listen, Jo,’ Simmy said, trying to sound parental. ‘I don’t think your love life is the important thing just now. If we can’t tell the police about Kathy, there isn’t much else we can do, is there?’

‘Phone the RAC and ask them if they’ve had a call out to a misbehaving car in Coniston,’ suggested Ninian. ‘Tell them the registration number.’

‘Do you know it?’ Simmy asked Joanna.

The girl shook her head. ‘Do you?’

‘Only the eleven part. But if we say her name and the make of car, that ought to be enough.’

‘They’ll be busy, this time of year,’ said Ninian, clearly making an effort to compensate for his flippancy.

‘I don’t know the number for the RAC,’ said Jo helplessly.

Simmy wished passionately that Melanie or Ben were there to take charge. Ben in particular seemed to have magical ways of discovering contact details for every known organisation. Why Joanna Colhoun was not equally competent was a question to tackle later. ‘We can google it, presumably,’ she said.

They crowded around Simmy’s computer, and found a number. Simmy called it, and after explaining the story in
detail, was told there was nothing they could do to help, because all client information was confidential. They could only speak to somebody on the mobile number originally provided.

‘But that phone’s dead,’ Simmy said. ‘Whatever happens, it’ll be a different number.’

‘We would ask for security details and membership number, then.’

‘Her mother’s maiden name is Clements,’ said Joanna, catching some of the conversation, speaking more in despair than in any hope that this would be regarded as relevant.

A customer arrived in the middle of the phone call, wanting a ‘sheaf’ of lilies and tulips. ‘Not a bouquet. A
sheaf
,’ the woman insisted. Simmy was forced to hand the phone to Joanna and go into the back room to collect the required blooms. She fashioned a perfect fan-shaped sheaf, with wires to hold it in place, and generous greenery to hide them. It took fifteen minutes, during which she rolled her eyes at Joanna and Ninian and left them to their own devices.

When the woman finally left, the phone was back in its place and Joanna was looking very tense. ‘So?’ Simmy asked.

‘Nothing of any use. All they would say was that someone will have responded by now and either got the car going or taken Mum and it to a garage. But they wouldn’t actually confirm that there was any such call-out in the first place.’

‘I suppose that’s the most you can hope for, when you think about it. I mean – they have sort of implied it was genuine, haven’t they? What more can they say?’

‘A lot! They could tell me
which
garage, for a start.’

‘Just be patient,’ said Simmy. ‘Kathy’s going to walk in here any minute, you’ll see. She’ll have dropped the phone and broken it, so she’ll come here and use mine. Except she won’t need to, because you’re here already.’

‘But I can’t stay. Baz needs me to finish the data inputting and check the equipment again at three. I’m never going to make it. He’s going to be mad at me when he knows I’ve been here.’

‘Have you got a car?’

‘One of the team brought me, because we did need some shopping. He’s waiting for me down the street. We’ll go on the ferry. Look, this is my mobile number. Call me, will you, the minute you hear anything? I’ll keep trying Mum and watch out for her. She might come looking for me at Coniston, I suppose.’ She looked close to tears helplessly needing to be in several places at once. The confusing mixture of childishness and real competence left Simmy unsure of how to behave. ‘But will you be all right?’ she asked.

‘
I
will, of course. It’s not me that’s gone missing, is it?’

Ninian had gone quiet again, passively watching and listening. Simmy wished she had his knack of staying out of the action. Instead, she seemed to take centre stage for every local drama, however hard she tried not to.

She changed the subject. ‘When do you have to be back at college?’

‘Monday. That’s why there’s such a rush. We need everything finished by Sunday night.’ She looked mournful. ‘And Baz has to get back to work. He says if we can publish our findings quickly, it’ll make his reputation and nothing else is going to matter.’

‘You’ve been here a week? Is that right?’

‘Nine days. But the experiment’s been going for a year. A lot of other students are involved as well. Look – I can’t stop to explain it now. I’m horribly late as it is.’

And she dashed out of the shop, leaving her phone number on a scrap of paper. Ninian and Simmy looked at each other. ‘Makes you feel old, doesn’t it?’ he said wistfully.

‘We
are
old. We could be her parents. My friend
is
her parent.’

‘She seems a clever girl. Interesting hair.’

Ninian’s artistic eye had unerringly registered Joanna’s most distinctive feature – her hair was long and kinky, the colour of treacle toffee. It rippled down her back and framed her face in a very pre-Raphaelite sort of way. Simmy had thought it looked rather unsuitable for a scientist working on a cold fellside. ‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked her, with a probing look. ‘You seem frazzled.’

‘Valentine’s,’ she said. ‘And a murder in Coniston. And a lot of malicious flower sending. And now Kathy going missing. Frazzled doesn’t really cover it.’

‘You ought to hole up in a faraway cottage like me.’

‘I thought that’s exactly what I
had
done. Troutbeck isn’t on the way to anywhere, after all. The snag is that I have to earn a living, and that involves interacting with people and walking the mean streets of Windermere.’

He laughed. ‘You’re wonderful with words, Sim. Did you know that?’

She huffed weakly, shaking her head. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Have you had any lunch?’

‘Um … no, I don’t think so. It all seemed to run away
with me. It’s teatime, nearly. I’ll go and put the kettle on. I think we’ve got some buns out there, if Melanie hasn’t taken them.’

‘Tea and a bun sounds wonderful. I’ll guard the shop while you boil the kettle.’

‘Ben’s liable to show up any minute. He slopes off early from school on Fridays, and if he’s heard any of the latest news, he’ll be keen to catch up.’

‘Oh,
Ben
,’ said Ninian, as if the boy were a constant irritant to him.

‘He’s a genius, you know. Whatever he does, he turns out to be brilliant at it. Look at that model in the window.’

‘The model is extraordinary,’ Ninian conceded. ‘But it’s showing a bit of wear and tear. I see another bit’s fallen off since I last looked. And your young friend is also a talented actor, which I admit surprised me. Geeks like him aren’t usually able to step outside themselves well enough to play a part with any conviction. They’re not supposed to understand how other people function.’

‘He’s not that sort of geek. And I’m not sure that’s true anyway. There was a boy at our school who came top in every subject, with the same effortlessness as Ben, and he was always the star of the school play as well. He’s a barrister now, defending the indefensible, last I heard. Pushing through outrageous developments and that sort of thing.’

‘Yuck. So we should watch out for Ben joining the dark side, then?’

Simmy just laughed and went out to the back room, where a small corner had been allocated to kettle, mugs and a tin for buns and biscuits.

As predicted, Ben Harkness burst into the shop at five to three, his school bag over his shoulder as always, and the universal dusty look of a schoolboy on a Friday afternoon.

‘You smell of the chalkface,’ said Ninian.

‘They don’t use chalk these days. Besides, how can you smell me amongst all these flowers?’

‘Sensitive nose.’

‘Where’s Simmy?’

‘I’m here.’ She came through with a tray containing three mugs of tea and a heap of little cupcakes that she had bought three days earlier and then forgotten.

Ben eyed her accusingly. ‘You were in Coniston last night, identifying a murder victim,’ he said. ‘And you never told me.’