There are some moments we all remember, and for me, receiving the call from Velinda Flimwell to say that Angel was missing was one of those moments. I’d spent long hours during the Monday and Tuesday holed up in my hotel room, preparing the phase-two plans, then tidying up those plans ready for another visit to London and the eagle-eyed Prendergast.
“Call for you, Jack, I’ve put it through to the phone on the hall table by the front door,” Morwenna had said, just as I sat down in the taproom to what I’d felt was a well-earned supper and the first meal I’d taken outside of my room since Sarah had left. “A Mrs Fullwell the caller says she is.”
‘You mean Flimwell’ I cursed under my breath, looking at the clock. What could she want at this time in the evening?
“We’ve got the police here, Jack,” was Velinda’s opening line.
“Why, what’s happened?”
“One of the pupils is missing, Angel Blackwood. Last seen at about three on Sunday afternoon.” I was tempted to ask if it might be a mistake, if the girl had simply gone home or something like that, but the presence of the police, Velinda’s worried tone of voice, and the lateness of the hour made me think better of it.
“Why in thunder wasn’t I told at the time?”
“Well, er…” She stumbled for a moment almost, I thought, as if she was hiding something. “Fell through the cracks, we’ve all been running around, working with the police, I’m sorry, I—”
“And Sir John?”
“Yes, we reported it immediately.” I wondered how I would explain my not knowing for two days to him. ‘Ignorance isn’t innocence in the eyes of the law’, I’d once heard him shout at a cowering underling.
“What are the police doing about it?” I eventually asked.
“Searching the building, the grounds, talking to the children and staff, that sort of thing. They’ve set up what they call an ‘incident room’ at the school.” I heard the sound of barking in the background. “They’ve got dogs as well, that’s them finishing for the night.”
“Runtle see anything?”
“No, and he swears the front gates were closed all day Sunday, except for when he let me through to drive to Truro that is. Says nobody else has been in or out that he didn’t know, and no other vehicles but mine.”
“Is there anything I can do right now?”
“Not for us here, thanks, but perhaps you’d appraise Sir John of the current situation.”
“I will try. Can you call me back here at the hotel if there are any developments?”
“Of course. Otherwise, we’ll see you in the morning, shall we?”
“Yes, first thing.”
In fact, I didn’t go to the academy until the following afternoon. Sir John, who I finally tracked down at his club in London, was less upset about me not having been told than I expected but did insist on coming down to Truro on the first available train to personally supervise the situation (a nightmare in the making for me, the police and the Flimwells, I thought to myself as he blustered in my ear).
“Meet me at the station, Sangster, and book me a room for tomorrow night at that little billet where you’re staying, the, er…”
“It’s called the Watersmeet Hotel, Sir John.”
“That’s the place. How’s the grub there?”
“Good,” I answered, knowing that I would need to be both truthful and detailed on this subject so dear to my employer’s heart. “Country dishes, plain and simple. Pasties, pies with local fish, meat and so on. Home-made puddings.”
“Hmph…” I heard him snort down the phone. “Not sure I like the sound of it.” He snorted again. “May have to make contingency plans and all that,” he added cryptically. “Can’t starve to death, and my secretary will tell you when my train arrives. Be there.”
“I will, Sir John.”
“Very well. Now then, the local MP owes me a big favour, and I’ve already been in touch, but I’ll get onto him again pronto. Make sure the rozzers down there really have put their best man on the case.”
“That’s good to hear,” I said, wondering why he had already contacted this ‘MP’ when I’d only just told him the girl was missing.
“And, Sangster.”
“Yes?”
“I’d have thought the girl would have turned up by now.” Again, I wondered at his choice of words, which sounded as if he’d already known for some time that Angel had disappeared, but I said nothing and let him continue. “This business could ruin all our good work if it goes pear shaped, so whoever the top man is that the police have assigned, I’ll still be counting on you.”
I heard the phone click as he hung up, and questioned, for the first time but not the last, Sir John’s priorities and judgement (other than just his distrust of the local food). Yes, the scandal might damage the institute but, more importantly, somewhere, perhaps not too far away, was a terrified girl, possibly suffering an ordeal which I could only too easily imagine. And even that ordeal was a better scenario than some.