She was about to close the eyes, staring sightless up at the summit where Celia had started her death plunge, when Paula decided not to touch anything. She wasn't sure at that moment why she took this decision.
She was breathing heavily when she glanced up again at the summit. Newman stood on the edge, staring down. She beckoned to him. Cupping her hands round her mouth, she called up to him.
'Comedown, Bob.'
Her words echoed round the moor, recalling that terrible scream.
Newman's legs had never stopped moving since he started to climb High Tor. Boulders and smaller rocks were scattered across the surface above him. He couldn't see the summit and he had long since lost sight of Celia as he followed the twisting path.
As so often happens with climbing heights, he reached the summit suddenly. Flat-topped, it had more rocks – some perilously close to the edge, he saw in time. With the gun still in his hand, he walked slowly to the brink, gazed down. He sucked in his breath at what lay below.
He could see the bright yellow scarf now. A small flash of colour on the tiny crumpled form lying across a huge boulder. He was startled to see Paula looking up, her right hand raised as she beckoned, then cupped both hands against her mouth.
'Come down, Bob.'
Her cry was faint but he heard the words clearly. He waved to acknowledge he had heard her. Had Celia thrown herself over? Seemed most unlikely. Newman stood where he was for a moment, looked round. Just behind him was a patch of grey sand. Clearly imprinted in it was the outline of a large fresh footprint. Much larger than Celia's small feet. And, he recalled, she had worn flat-heeled walking shoes. The imprint showed small indentations inside the outline. Studded climbing boots. Celia had been brutally murdered – shoved over the precipice.
The view from the summit of High Tor was panoramic and he could see over the moor for miles in every direction. Newman took a small pair of field-glasses out of his coat pocket, removed his dark glasses, began to scan the moor. He must have missed the murderer by minutes.
Through the lenses he saw how rough the country below was. Deep gullies where a horseman could ride unseen. Stretches of dense gorse which could mask sunken paths. Avoiding the footprint, he walked to the four points of the compass to look down the slopes. No sign of anyone, but there were boulders the size of houses. He decided he must hurry back to join Paula.
9
'I really hated leaving her like that,' Paula said. 'And I wish I'd closed her eyes.'
'Don't worry about it,' Newman said. 'You did the right thing.'
They had hurried back to the car from High Tor and were now driving back towards Padstow along the A30. Cardon stirred in the back.
'I make the body count ten now,' he observed. 'Eight wiped out in the massacre at Tresillian Manor. The postman at Five Lanes. Now this Celia Yeo is number ten.'
'All right,' Paula said edgily. 'Now we know you can add up.' She returned to the previous subject, which was gnawing at her nerves. 'We can't just leave Celia lying out there. Supposing it rains tonight? I know that must sound silly…
'Not at all.' For a moment Newman drove with one hand and put an arm round her, gave her an affectionate squeeze. 'I had two reasons for not touching her. They have an advanced fingerprint technique these days which can sometimes take a print off flesh. You'd have had to touch her eyes to close them. But my main reason is we should leave everything for the police without disturbing anything.'
'When they eventually find her,' she snapped.
'Oh, they're going to find her today. When we get back to Padstow my first job is to call Buchanan from that phone box outside the Old Custom House. I'll disguise my voice. That's another reason for handling it this way – if Buchanan knows we were there when it happened Lord knows how much more time would be wasted while he questions us. Maybe several days. And I suspect time is something Tweed is short of.'
'You've made me feel better,' she said. 'But why are we visiting Tresillian Manor?'
'Can't you guess? I think it might be significant to find out whether Gaunt and Jennie Blade are at the manor. Bearing in mind what happened at High Tor.'
Spiky hedges lined the section of the side road leading to the manor. At one point where the fake diversion had been set up Paula pointed to an open gate leading on to the moor.
'We told you last night about the ambush, Bob. I think they hid their vehicles inside that gateway.'
Tweed took a chance crashing through,' Newman commented.
'What would you have done, then?' Paula challenged him.
'Exactly what Tweed did…'
No one was about as they entered the drive to the manor. As it came into view and they drove closer Paula noticed the curtains were closed over the dining-room windows. Again they left Cardon to mind the car while Newman and Paula climbed the steps to the terrace, walked into the large square porch. Paula pressed the bell and quickly the door was opened on a heavy chain. Cook peered out. Behind her loomed a shadowy figure.
'Well, what do you want?'
'It's me.' Paula swiftly took off her glasses, whipped off her scarf. 'We talked yesterday.'
'Lordy me, never recognized you.' She released the chain, opened the door wide. 'Cousin Jem is here with his shotgun. Come in and have a good strong cup of tea.'
That's kind of you. This is my friend, Robert,' she introduced Newman. 'I was hoping Squire Gaunt was here.'
'Been gawn 'ours. Both of 'em. One took the Land-Rover, the other a horse. Not sure which took which. I was out back in kitchen. There's a proper upset 'ere. Two girls never came for work – don't expect as we'll ever see them again, considerin' what 'appened yesterday. I 'as to serve meals in the Great Hall for the master and Miss Blade. The police said they 'ad to seal the dinin' room…' It was all pouring out in a torrent as though Cook was glad to talk to someone she could trust. 'But Wendy's turned up – worth the other two of 'em, she is. Police said they'd be comin' back later.'
Thank you, Cook. I wonder if you'd mind not mentioning our visit? It's a surprise for the Squire. And I don't think we have time for that cup of tea, but thank you.'
'We've been told not to say a word to a soul. I hope Celia's keepin' her mouth shut. She'll be back tomorrow. Don't worry, dear. I won't say a word to anyone about your visit.' Her ruddy face creased into a grin. 'Me, I likes secrets
Newman said nothing until they were heading back along the drive. The reference to the police returning had alarmed him. He made his remark when they were driving back to the A30.
'That was interesting. Both Gaunt and his girl friend could have been on the moor near High Tor.'
'But not the one in the Land-Rover,' Paula pointed out. 'We'd have heard it. Pity we don't know which one was on horseback…'
Newman swung out on to the A30. He was just about to drop out of sight down a steep slope when he saw a car a long way off in his rear-view mirror. A patrol car turning off down the road to Tresillian Manor.
That was a damn near run thing,' he commented, 'which Wellington remarked after Waterloo. Now, Padstow, here we come, so I can make my phone call to Buchanan. And Cook little knows that poor Celia is keeping her mouth shut,' he said grimly. Tor ever…'
Paula waited with Cardon in the Mercedes in the car park opposite the Old Custom House. It was the most impressive building in Padstow, a solid block of an edifice, three storeys high. From the roof projecting up was a large dormer with two closed wooden doors. Paula pointed to it.
'At one time, ages ago, they must have hauled cargo up there from the street.'
'It's ancient history,' Cardon agreed. 'I wonder how Bob is getting on…'