Fell of Dark. Reginald Hill
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I thought I had got away with it, then cursed him as, appearing to want something to say rather than an answer, he repeated, ‘So you never saw them again.’
‘No,’ I mumbled.
My reasoning was simple. Peter wanted to be kept out of this business so much that he was prepared to lie about it. If he felt so strongly, it did not matter what the reason was. In fact, the less important the reason, the more important it seemed to support him. The doctor had said he was not ready for the kind of emotional pressure the recent past had put him under. This day had brought other pressures just as powerful to a mending mind. He felt himself threatened without reason, but the lack of reason could not be explained to him until his mind recognized the lack of threat. The sooner we got away from there the better.
I am not of the cast of mind which automatically puts personal loyalties before the public good. I am not quite sure what I would do it I discovered a close friend was a spy or a criminal. But in this instance I saw things fairly clearly. Nothing I could tell Melton about our meeting with the girls around midday could possibly throw any light on what happened to them six or seven hours later.
And in the back of my mind was the smug thought that in fact to be found out in this lie would almost redound to my credit.
But I still didn’t really like it, and muttered my ‘no’, and was heartily glad when the superintendent seemed satisfied.
‘Who else was in the bar that evening, Mr Bentink?’
‘I don’t know any names, I’m afraid. You see we’d only been there a day and spent most of that time out on the fells so there wasn’t much time to get to know people.’
I realized I was becoming garrulous in my efforts to display my eagerness to help, and I took a deep breath.
‘There were a lot of people I’d seen in the dining-room. A fat middle-aged woman with a thin grey man. I can’t be more exact. He was just grey.’
He smiled and sorted out a bit of paper.
‘Mr and Mrs Mannering. I have them here.’
‘And there was a family – two teenage sons and their parents.’
‘The Fosters.’
I screwed my eyes up in the effort to recall.
‘There was a party of walkers, young lads, probably from the hostel. I remember a very blond boy.’
‘Ah yes. The Wyrton Boys’ Club party. We have them here.’
‘The manager. Stirling, wasn’t it? I think he poked his head in.’
‘Hardly a very startling intrusion, I shouldn’t have thought.’
‘Oh. Well, that’s about my limit I’m afraid.’
‘Really? That’s not very good, is it? I mean you said the place was absolutely crowded, so crowded that the only way to get a seat was to nip in sharply as soon as anyone showed signs of leaving.’
‘I’m sorry.’
He stood up.
‘Think a bit more. Some other faces might come back, I know that memory’s a very odd thing. Would you excuse me a moment?’
He went out. I heard his footsteps recede down the corridor and wondered where he had gone. I toyed with images of two-way mirrors and secret peep-holes through which he could peer to see if I started rifling his desk as soon as he left. The thought amused me so I smiled and wondered what he would make of my smile. But it faded away as I thought that most probably he had gone to see how Inspector Copley was getting on with Peter. But in the end I shrugged that away too and smiled again at the thought that he had very likely just gone to the loo. He looked the kind of nervous little man whose bowels might be affected by the tension of such a responsibility as his.
But I had other things to think of, besides Melton’s character, though perhaps his character played a large part in the answer to the number one question which was, why had we been brought here? The more I thought about it, the more uneasy I became, though I could not see any possible reason for uneasiness, apart from the lie about our second meeting. But that lie did not exist when we had been summoned.
It had been this discussion of the crowded bar which had suddenly brought it home forcibly to me how many people were involved. A hotelful and a hostelful, plus any casuals who had been around. The superintendent could hardly have interviewed all these. Could hardly intend interviewing all these. His men would take statements. He would sift through the statements and … he would want to see some people personally. But why us? Why not statements first from us?
Perhaps we were mentioned in other statements and his interest had been roused. Perhaps Stirling had indicated us as suspicious characters. The bastard! I felt I had arrived at part of the answer.
But the time factor still worried me. It was only 11:30 now. We had caught the 10 a.m. train from Boot. And had been met at 10:25. How long had Melton been on the case? There was an urgency here I did not like.
But what suspicion could attach itself to us? Could it be that Melton did not know where we had been the previous evening? But he must have checked with the Boot Inn to have been able to have Armstrong and Lazonby waiting for us at Ravenglass.
I told myself I was being too subtle about the whole thing. It probably did boil down to a matter of character in the end. Melton, nervous little Melton, must have the kind of quirk which demanded that he should put himself in personal contact with everyone on the case. Perhaps he could not delegate. Probably that was why he had had to leave me. He wanted to check up on his underlings, to see what was going on.
He would be downstairs in one of the little boxes talking perhaps to Peter.
The thought did not altogether please. But it was followed by another which pleased even less.
Or to Ferguson.
What was Ferguson’s part in all this? Why was he here? The only obvious connection he had with the case was not with the girls, but with us. With Peter and myself.
His presence was now the most puzzling feature of all. But at least, I thought, whatever he said must be proof positive that we were securely ensconced in the Boot Inn the night before.
I smiled and lit a cigarette. The door opened and Melton came back in.
He sat down.
‘Which route did you take yesterday morning?’
‘We went down through Borrowdale and then on through Seathwaite, over Esk Hause and down into Eskdale.’
‘Sounds like a stroll in the park when you say it like that.’ He smiled.
‘It didn’t feel like it.’
‘Hot were you, then?’
‘That’s right.’
‘See many people around?’
‘One or two, I suppose there were a lot around, it was such a lovely day. But there’s a lot of fellside up there.’
‘Did you notice anyone you knew?’
I thought for a long time. The trouble with telling a lie you don’t really want to tell (which rarely happens in business) is that you feel the same distaste every time you tell it, not just the first.
‘We saw the party of lads from the hostel. The ones in the hotel bar.’
‘That’s all?’
‘Yes.’
Again I was forced into the lie positive.
There was a tap on the door and a young constable came in with two cups of coffee on a tray. He placed them on the desk and went out without a glance at me. But I felt he was making a great effort to avoid staring.
‘Sugar?’ asked Melton.
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