Echoes in the Darkness

“Not at the breakfast table, if you please, Eleanor,” Tynan said mechanically. Sombrely, he added, “Ordinarily, I would go down to the village. My presence at a time like this is important, and I should offer the support of the estate to the police or see if I can assist the magistrate in any way.”

“You are not fit enough to do so, however. It’s a pity Cad has already gone into Wadebridge for the day,” Lucy said in her unruffled manner. “But don’t worry, my love, I will go in your stead.” She turned to me. “Dita, perhaps you would care to join me? It is not the most pleasant of missions, but one of the obligations placed on us is our duty to be publicly active on such occasions. When you marry Eddie, you will be expected to fulfil this sort of unpleasant task.”

The scene, when we arrived, was bleak. The village was little more than a row of slate fishermen’s cottages set in a curve that followed the contours of the bay. Athal Cove brooded in shades of grey and white as though reflecting on the brutal crime it had witnessed. Most of the local populace were huddled in small, silent groups on the cobbled street. Death had come on stealthy feet to their quiet home. Several uniformed police officers stood stiffly at the entrance to the alley where another group of men, dressed in dark, severe suits, could just be seen. They were supervising what appeared to be an operation to remove the contents of an outbuilding.

Lucy approached one of the police officers, and he directed us to a tall, thin man who was puffing on a pipe. The battered bag he held proclaimed his profession, and as he turned, I recognised Doctor Munroe, who had tended me when I was ill.

“You look considerably better, Miss Varga,” he commented. “But I hope you are not overdoing things?”

“What can you tell us about this dreadful business, doctor?” Lucy asked after I had given him an assurance that I was indeed taking care of myself.

“Very little, my lady,” he said, with a nod toward the alley. “The body has been concealed in one of the sheds, and until the police have cleared some of the accumulated junk, I cannot get in there to examine it.”

“It seems reasonable to assume that she was murdered, however?” Lucy questioned.

“Nothing definite yet,” he stated ponderously, sending a cloud of smoke into the still air. “It’s possible it was an accident. Unlikely, but possible.”

“And is it definitely Amy Winton, the girl who disappeared?”

“Again, it seems highly likely, but I can’t confirm anything yet.”

A middle-aged man and woman were waiting on one side of the path. The man was marble still with shock, but the woman had fallen to her knees. Her hands covered her face and she rocked back and forth, a high, keening wail escaping her. I surmised that they must be Amy Winton’s parents. A chill shadow of pity touched my face like the sweep of a raven’s wing. Hurrying over, I knelt beside the woman, drawing her into my arms. She collapsed against me, clutching my arm and gasping through her tears, “I need to see her. Please, I need to see my baby.”

I helped her to her feet and drew them both over to sit on a low wall set slightly farther away so that the oblique angle meant they could not see the activity in the alley. “Wait here,” I said. “I will go and speak to the police inspector.”

That gentleman was inclined to regard me with a condescending eye, which had the effect of igniting my temper. “I am Mr Edward Jago’s fiancée,” I informed him haughtily. “Now, Mr and Mrs Winton are understandably anxious to know what is going on, but I don’t think this is the best place for them. I suspect that you agree it would not be wise to allow them to see their daughter’s body?” He nodded morosely. “In that case, I will accompany them to their house, but you will need to send an officer along to keep us informed of events here.” He looked a bit taken aback at my imperious manner, but he acceded to my request. I paused to tell Lucy what I was doing and she threw me a grateful, approving look.

The Wintons’ cottage was sparsely furnished, but neat and clean. I busied myself making tea while Mrs Winton flopped heavily into a chair, gazing numbly into space. Her husband began to pace restlessly up and down, which was not an easy feat in the confined space.