accepted a whisky to ward off the cold.
"Nowheres to be found," he told Lynley. "But 'r boat's gone from Lamoma Cove."
"It's what?" Lynley said. "Jasper, are you certain?"
"Course I be certain. Tain't there."
Lynley stared at the fox on the overmantel and tried to understand, but all that came to mind were details. They refused to coalesce. The family's thirty-five-foot sloop was docked at Lamoma. Peter had been sailing since he was five years old. The weather had been promising a storm all day.
No one with any sense or experience would have taken a boat out. "It must have broken loose of its mooring somehow."
Jasper made a sound of derision, but his face was blank when Lynley swung towards him again. "Where else did you check?"
"Ever'place. 'Tween Nanrunnel and Treen."
"Trewoofe? St. Buryan? Did you go inland?"
"Aye. A bit. No need t' go far, m'lord. If the lad be on foot, someone's like to see him. But no one makes the claim."
Jasper pulled on his jaw, rubbing his fingers through the stubble of his beard. "Way I see, either him and the lady's in hiding round here or they got a ride direct soon's they left Howenstow. Or they took the boat."
"He wouldn't have done it. He knows better than that. He's not entirely ..." Lynley stopped. There was no need for Jasper to hear the worst of his fears. No doubt the man knew every one of them already. "Thank you, Jasper. Make sure you get something to eat."
The old man nodded and headed for the door. He paused at the threshold, however. "John Penellin got took last night, I hear."
"Yes. He did."
Jasper's mouth worked, as if he wished to say more but was hesitant to do so.
"What is it?" Lynley asked.
"He oughtn't take blame for nobody, you ask me," Jasper said and left them.
"What more does Jasper know?" St. James asked when they were alone.
Lynley was staring at the carpet, lost in thought. He roused himself to say, "Nothing, I should guess. It's just what he feels."
"About John?"
"Yes. Peter as well. If there's guilt to be assessed, Jasper knows where it should lie."
Lynley had never felt so incapable of either action or decision. It seemed as if his life were spinning out of control and all he could do was watch the various pieces fly haphazardly into space. All he could say was, "He wouldn't take the boat. Not in this weather. Where would he go? And why?"
He heard St. James move and looked up to see the compassion on his face. "Perhaps he's still somewhere on the estate, Tommy. Perhaps he doesn't even know what's happened and his disappearance is altogether unconnected to Justin Brooke."
"And to the cameras?"
"To those as well."
Lynley looked away, to the pictures on the wall, all those generations of Lynleys who fit the mould, did their crewing at Oxford, and took their places at Howenstow without a single howl of protest.
"I don't believe that, St. James. Not for a moment. Do you?"
His friend sighed. "Frankly? No."
Chapter 17
"Heavens, to what depths have we managed to slither?" Lady Helen said. She dropped her suitcase, sighed, and let her handbag dangle forlornly from her fingertips. "Lunching at Paddington Station. Behaviour so utterly reprehensible mat I can hardly believe I allowed myself to engage in it."
"It was your suggestion after all, Helen." Deborah set her own luggage on the floor and looked round the bed-sitting room with a smile of contentment. It felt unaccountably good to be home, even if home was only a single room in Padding ton. At least it was her own. "I plead utter guilt. But when one is in the absolute throes of starvation, when demise is the probable consequence of even a moment's epicurean snobbery, what is one to do but rush madly towards the first cafeteria that comes into sight?" She shuddered, as if stricken by the recollection of what she'd found heaped upon her luncheon plate. "Can you imagine a more despicable thing to do to a sausage?" Deborah laughed. "Would you like a restorative? A cup of tea? I've even got a recipe for a health drink you might like.
Tina gave it to me. A pick-me-up, she called it."
"No doubt 'picked up' is just what she needed after an encounter with Mick Cambrey, if his father's to be believed," Lady Helen said. "But I'll forego that pleasure for now, if I may. Shall we pop next door with his picture?" Deborah pulled it from her shoulder bag and led the