Amanda Cadabra and The Strange Case of Lucy Penlowr Holly Bell (top 100 novels txt) 📖

‘No, no come in. Nancarrow will look after you,’ Trelawney replied with assurance.

He ushered her in.

‘Nancarrow, this is Miss Cadabra, Miss Cadabra, Detective Constable Nancarrow. Would you mind keeping Miss Cadabra company while I see what Harris needs?’ With that he disappeared into the inner sanctum, where his sergeant was awaiting him.

‘Of course, sir,’ she called after him, a little doubtfully, regarding the face behind the name. For she had feared Miss Cadabra was a rival for her boss’s affections.

However, Amanda, blissfully unaware of any such undercurrent, advanced with a warm smile and outstretched hand.

‘I’m honoured. I have heard so much about the eternally efficient and indispensable Constable Nancarrow.’

This earned a blush and a hesitant welcome as they shook hands.

‘Hello, Miss Cadabra, nice to meet you. I understand you and the inspector will be working together.’

‘Well, I’ll do my best. I know he’ll have to be back here often, and there’s no way that I can fill your shoes. I expect he’ll be on the phone to you whenever he needs research he can’t do himself.’

Nancarrow was rapidly thawing.

‘I won’t mind that, really.’

Amanda enquired with interest, ‘Even though it’s Sunken Madley rather than Parhayle business. Will that be all right?’

‘Of course.’

They chatted amiably about the similarities and differences between their places of residence until Nancarrow said hesitantly,

‘You will look after him, won’t you?’

Amanda finally detected more concern for the inspector’s well-being than the purely professional, and said again gently, ‘I’ll do my best, I promise.’

‘He likes shortcake.’

‘Does he have a favourite brand?’

‘Well ....’

Trelawney emerged from his office to find Amanda and Nancarrow perched side-by-side on a desk, heads together over a small screen.

He hid his relief at finding two of the women in his life in such accord, by enquiring of the air,

‘What is it with girls and their phones?’

Two pairs of eyes instantly looked up at him with such affront at his rampantly provoking remark, that he grinned, apologised and whisked Amanda out of the door before a word of reproach could be uttered.

‘Really!’ said Amanda, back in the car.

‘What were you looking at? Dating site profiles?’ he asked teasingly.

‘Confectionary suppliers,’ she replied repressively, then smiled. ‘Biscuits.’

‘Ah, I thoroughly approve. Now: breakfast.’

‘You have time?’

‘I do. Let us depart with all speed.’

‘Within the legal limit, naturally,’ Amanda replied playfully.

‘I don’t think our journey is of sufficient urgency to warrant the siren. Or are you that hungry?’

‘Hmm ... I can wait.’

I shouldn’t have to, thought Tempest, stretching his legs out on the back seat, but I shall humour them on this occasion.

Chapter 11

Fire — Inspector Hogarth Investigates

‘How was your day?’ Hogarth asked from the kitchen, where he was cleaning a set of scrapers. There were patches of Polyfilla on the hall and kitchen walls, and all of the paintings had been taken down.

‘Wonderful, thank you, Uncle Mike,’ replied Amanda, as they joined him by the sink. ‘The inspector very kindly took me for cream teas and to see the Golitha Falls: spectacular!’

‘Rather like the sight of someone who could down two cream teas in one day,’ remarked Trelawney, on a note of awe.

‘Will you still be wanting dinner?’ asked their host, teasingly.

‘Oh yes, please, Uncle Mike,’ came the eager response. ‘I haven’t eaten since lunchtime.’

‘Miss Cadabra managed one for breakfast and another for lunch.’

Hogarth looked at her with exaggerated sympathy.

‘Of course she did. Poor Amanda has been living a life of Cornish-cream-tea-deprivation Up North.’

Trelawney laughed.

‘I must admit I hadn’t looked at it that way. Miss Cadabra, I shall take you back there again, as soon as possible!’

‘Were you up there all day?’ asked Hogarth.

‘No, the inspector went back to the station and I spent the afternoon reading some books on Bodmin. The inspector very kindly leant me his library card.’

Hogarth stopped cleaning his tools and stared in mock astonishment.

‘Did I hear that correctly? He lent you his library card?’ He looked at Thomas. ‘Well, if that isn’t a declaration of true love, I don’t know what is. Shall I send out the wedding invitations?’

Amanda giggled and Trelawney grinned.

‘I’ve already returned it,’ she affirmed.

‘Well, have you learned anything of interest?’ asked Mike.

‘I have to admit that I fell asleep within an hour.’

‘All those scones had nothing to do with it,’ Trelawney remarked airily.

‘I did learn that it’s made of granite and its Cornish name is Goon Brenn, which I think means “high moor”. That first appears in a document or something from the twelfth century. The Jamaica Inn of the title of Daphne Du Maurier’s novel is a clearly a must-see and I can’t get enough of the tales of pyskies. I’ve seen fairies but not with red hair and dressed in grass. Anyway, the point is that there’s lot of granite lying about up there. The stones I found just before I had that vision, could, I suppose, have been natural.’

‘But you said they looked shaped?’ queried Trelawney.

‘They did. Perhaps I should have looked for a book on granite.’

With pudding and tea served, and Tempest on a cushion, wedged warmly between Amanda’s thigh and the inside of her armchair, Hogarth looked at his company and enquired,

‘Ready?’

‘Very much so, Uncle Mike. The last thing you said was that there were whispers of children going missing. I couldn’t believe you stopped there, by the way!’

Hogarth chuckled. Then his face became serious. He nodded.

‘Yes. At first just children. Then whole families .... No one was talking. I caught on only from conversations that stopped suddenly when I approached.

‘I asked Mamm James, my kindly landlady.

“No one’s sayin’ anythin’, as you’re practically one o’ mine, Mihal,” she said, giving me the Cornish version of my