Lessons in Solving the Wrong Problem - Charlie Cochrane Page 0,45
his ear to the ground and his eyes open, while his shoulder is at the wheel, which would seem to involve some strange contortions were it not metaphorical. He said he had an idea, which he’d discussed with Dr Panesar, which strikes me as either very hopeful or incredibly worrying and I can’t decide which.”
“It’ll be interesting, whichever way the coin falls.”
“Yes. Let’s hope it’s an Iron Age one.”
***
They had to wait until Saturday for them both to be free to travel to Ely to see Mrs Cadmore. The visit had the feeling of a pivotal moment, a make or break for the case. Orlando, who hated the very notion of a case defeating him, had shown increasing signs of despondency as the week had passed. As he said, even if they suspected Herron of blackmail and Mary’s brother Jude of digging up the treasure, they simply had no way of proving it. Jonty couldn’t pretend that wasn’t the case. He’d become so concerned, he’d dropped into St Bride’s chapel on Thursday and offered up a series of prayers. He’d not asked for a miraculous clue to turn up, nor for a revelation in the form of the type of dream people always seemed to be getting in scripture, but some wisdom—and peace of mind for Orlando—would be jolly welcome.
When they arrived at the Cadmores’ abode, they found that the master of the house had been despatched to help tend his neighbour’s boat down on the river.
“Not that either of them should be on the water at their age, but short of tying him up, I’ve little choice.” Mrs Cadmore came across as kind, maternal and distinctly shrewd. “I’ve no cakes to offer you, as Cadmore can’t have them, although I’ve some sausage rolls fresh from the oven if you’d like one with your cup of tea.”
Jonty, who’d caught the delicious aroma as soon as he’d walked through the door, accepted for them both.
“You want to talk about my time at Greysands?” She asked, once they were settled.
“Yes.” Orlando appeared to be happier for having consumed one of the savoury pastries, with the prospect of a second to come. “Might we start with the more delicate of our enquiries? We’d like to discuss the day young Edward had his accident.”
Mrs Cadmore nodded. “It’s a long time ago, but I remember it as clearly as if it were yesterday. Edward and I had been playing hide and seek, which he loved. My turn to cover my eyes and count. He always insisted I do that properly and not peer through my hands. If I hadn’t kept to his rules, the outcome might have been very different.”
Did that argue for the child having deliberately set up the circumstances in which he could slip his nurse maid’s guard? “Nobody can blame you for obliging him. Little boys can be very insistent.”
“Thank you for being so understanding, Dr Stewart. I’ve been told no end of times not to blame myself, but it’s not easy.” She glanced over at a photograph of what might have been her own children. “When I turned and opened my eyes, I panicked for a moment, not knowing where Edward could have got to. I searched around his usual haunts and when I saw a child going up towards the summer house, I was so relieved. I was sure it was Edward, not yet having reached his hiding place. I don’t for a moment believe it was the gardener’s boy. Too well dressed, for one thing. Of course, now I realise that it probably couldn’t have been Edward, because he’d never have been able to get that far in the time, although I have no idea how long I was searching, so I could be wrong.”
Jonty felt a frisson: this accorded with the idea he’d aired about a third boy. “So, could it have been another child you saw that day? One nearer to Edward’s age who happened to on the estate without anyone realising the fact, perhaps.
“Yes, that’s entirely possible, although I don’t recall any children of a similar age living in the estate cottages. I wouldn’t have known all the children round about, though. Strange that a young boy would be off on his own, unless he had the same tendency to wander that Edward had. I used to say I needed a sheepdog for that one.” She produced a handkerchief, to dry a tear and then give her nose a solid blowing.
“Was Edward worried about anything?” Orlando