Murder Between the Tides
Page 7
“It’s a start,” Alan said. “And that’s better than nothing. Let’s go.”
They headed out together into the darkness, shoulders hunched against the cold, the wind chill made worse by the damp sea air. If Charlie was still outside with his camera, Dan didn’t spot him. Just as well, he thought. He’s the last person I want to see.
They left the streetlights behind as they neared the clifftops, and in the darkness the ceaseless rhythm of the waves seemed to come from every direction, each boom and splashing rush followed by the crackle of pebbles rolling over the rocks like a drawn-out death rattle.
Dan took his rechargeable torch from his pocket and sent the bright beam searching through the misty air.
Alan pointed. “Look. There.”
“What?” Dan aimed his torch. There was no one in sight, but his torch’s beam picked out the boarded-up kiosk that stood near the steps leading down to the beach.
“Over here.” Alan jogged over to the kiosk and pulled something from the shadows.
Hurrying to Alan’s side, Dan shone his light. And his heart sank. Alan was studying a large suitcase, and though Dan had never seen Edward’s luggage, the case was a brand-new Samsonite: exactly the kind of bag he’d own.
“There’s no label,” Alan said. “Shall we open it?”
“We’ll have to.”
“What about fingerprints? We don’t know what’s happened here.”
“I’ll be careful, but we have to see inside. It might help us find him.” Dan handed his torch to Alan. “Hold this.”
Alan held the light steady and Dan kneeled down, flipping the latches, handling them as carefully as he could. The case wasn’t locked, but Dan was suddenly reluctant to open it. He took a breath, then he lifted the lid.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The case was almost full: shirts neatly folded, a cotton pyjama jacket, a soft woollen cardigan.
“These could belong to anybody,” Alan said.
Dan picked out the cardigan and turned the label around. “Cashmere. It’s his. It has to be.” He closed the case, then he stood, crossing to the top of the steps. The beach was lost in the darkness, but he could make out the white tops of waves in the distance. At least the tide was out.
“I’m going down,” Dan said. “Do you want to stay here, or—”
“I’m coming with you,” Alan interrupted. He held Dan’s torch out to him. “Here. I’ll use my phone’s flashlight. But we can’t go far from the steps. If we don’t find him soon, we’ll have to come back up.”
“Agreed.” Dan picked his way down the steps, one hand on the handrail, the other holding his torch at shoulder height. Alan followed close behind him, but they didn’t speak.
This is madness, Dan thought. We’ll never find him. But he had to hope. There was always a chance.
Dan stepped onto the beach, but the mist hung heavy in the air, swallowing the light from his torch. The sea was louder now, the sound whirled around by the wind, waves raking the shore with a spluttering hiss like spiteful laughter.
“Edward!” Alan called out. “Are you there?”
But Dan touched his arm then played his torch’s beam on the damp sand. “There are no footprints. No one’s been down here since the tide came in.”
“Even so, we should still look,” Alan insisted. “In case he… fell from the top.”
“All right. But we’ll stick together.”
They trudged across the sand, peering at each strange shape that emerged to taunt them: driftwood, clumps of seaweed, a length of rusted chain.
Alan called Edward’s name several times, but to no avail, and after a few minutes they halted.
“We’re getting too far from the steps,” Alan said. “We’d better head back.”
“You’re right.” Dan took a last look around, then they turned back, staying close to the cliff. They found the steps quickly, and Dan shone his torch upward.
“After you,” Alan said.
But Dan didn’t move. Something on the cliff’s face had caught the light, and he shifted his torch, making the beam retrace its path. There. Caught on a clump of plants, a piece of wet cloth fluttered feebly in the updraught.
“Is that…?” Alan began.
“A jacket. It’s Edward’s. He was wearing it this afternoon.” Dan heaved a sigh. “We have to call the police again. Something’s happened to Edward. I’m sure of it.”
TUESDAY
8 December
CHAPTER 9
After a quiet breakfast in the hotel, Dan and Alan sat in one of the hotel’s function rooms, Dan nursing a mug of black coffee, Alan sipping from a cup of tea. There’d been no news of Edward, but Dominic had taken charge of the situation, insisting that as the retreat’s organiser, he’d be the one to liaise with the police.
Since then, Dominic had kept his cards close to his chest, fobbing off all enquiries with a sympathetic smile and a murmured reassurance that everything would be all right. Dan had offered to help, but Dominic had assured him that everything was already in hand.
This morning, Dominic had called a meeting of everyone on the retreat, and Dan had decided to gatecrash. After all, he’d been the one to raise the alarm.
Tim Kendall arrived promptly at 8 o’clock, followed by Brian Coyle and Roz Hammond.
“Morning,” Tim said, sitting next to Alan. “I don’t suppose there’s any news.”
“Not yet,” Alan replied. “Dominic should be here any minute, and then we’ll find out if anything’s happened.”
“Fingers crossed,” Brian said. He took the seat next to Tim, and Roz sat beside him. She acknowledged Dan and Alan with a sad smile, but she didn’t speak; she sat slumped in her chair, staring into space.
A moment later, Marcus Slater and Albert Fernworthy arrived, both men looking tired and distracted. Sombre greetings were exchanged, then they took their places, sitting quietly.
A tense silence crept across the room, and Dan leaned closer to Alan. “Maybe I should get things started.”
But before Alan could reply, Dominic Rudge entered the room, his face pale and his expression pained, his battered satchel clasped tightly across his stomach as though he feared it might be snatched away.
“Is this it?” Dominic asked as he took a seat. “Where’s everyone else?”
Albert cleared his throat. “Margaret and Pansy have gone home. They were quite upset. Edward was, I mean is, a friend of theirs, and they couldn’t stand the idea that something might’ve happened to him. And then there was some journalist—”
“What?” Dominic interrupted. “Already?”
“He was here before Edward disappeared,” Dan said. “He’s been following Edward for some time.”
Dominic scraped his hand down his face. “My God. That’s all we need.” He took a breath, lifting his chin and shaking his head as if bucking himself up. “What about Lucille? I’m sure she won’t have cut and run.”
“Actually, I think she might well have gone home,” Marcus said. “I haven’t seen her this morning, but last night she talked about leaving. She seemed… downhearted.”
“Very well, since it looks like no one else is going to turn up, we’ll make a start.” Dominic scanned his audience to make sure they were paying attention, then he began. “There’s not much to tell. As of this morning, no one has heard from Edward. The police have been informed, but I’m afraid they’ve been almost useless. They say that Edward is not yet officially a missing person, but I convinced them to send someone out to take a look around.”
“That doesn’t sound like a proper search,” Dan said.
Dominic sent Dan a stern look. “Alas, I fear you may be right. But the matter is out of my hands. The sergeant claimed that they’d done all they could, and at least they recorded everything. If Edward isn’t found, the case can be escalated appropriately.”
Marcus raised his hand. “To be honest, I’ve been thinking about heading for home. That’s okay, isn’t it?”
An embarrassed silence filled the room until Brian broke it. “For myself, I’m staying put, but only because I’m still harbouring a faint hope that Edward will turn up. Failing that, I want to be ready to help the police with their enquiries. I think we all feel the same. But as for the retreat… I’m sure we all have more pressing matters on our mind right now.”
“Yes, of course,” Dominic said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to diminish the significance of what’s happened. I misspoke. I’m exhausted. I didn’t sleep a wink.”
“I don’t suppose any of us slept well,” Roz said. “I kept thinking about Edward, out there on his own. It was such a cold night.”
Dominic nodded wisely. “It’s sad. Very sad. But unfortunately, there’s nothing much we can do. If there are further developments, I’ll make sure you’re all informed.”
“But what exactly did the police say?” Tim asked. “Do they think he might’ve jumped?”
“They’re keeping an open mind. Since he hasn’t been found, there’s not a lot they can do, but they have contact details for all of you, and I’m sure they’ll be in touch.”
“You haven’t really answered my question,” Tim said. “Do they think that Edward might’ve taken his own life?”
“They’re not sure,” Dominic replied, “but sadly, they can’t rule out the possibility.”
“I can,” Dan said.
Dominic stared at him, blinking. “I’m sorry?”
“I spoke to Edward earlier that day,” Dan replied. “He was positive, energetic, making plans for the future. He’s making a deal with a film company, and he was thrilled about the whole thing.”
“Daniel, with respect, you’re not even meant to be at this meeting,” Dominic said. “Of course, none of us want to think the worst, but Edward’s behaviour was very erratic yesterday. And then there was the suitcase he left behind. I’m sorry to say this, really I am, but it doesn’t look good.”
“I agree with Dan,” Brian said. “I’ve known Edward for years, and he’s not the suicidal type. He might’ve come across as a bit effete, but underneath it all, he’s tough. That stuff about him working in intelligence wasn’t made up for publicity; it was real. He’d spent time in the field, all across Eastern Europe. He’s done things that’d turn your hair white, and he lived to tell the tale. There’s no way he’d top himself.”
Roz touched Brian’s arm. “We can’t always know what goes on in someone’s inner life. Maybe all those years of secrecy took their toll. It’s not good for someone to live under pressure. We all have our vulnerabilities.”
“Not him.” Brian shrunk from her touch, folding his arms. “The man had a core of steel. I mean, look at this note.” Fumbling in the breast pocket of his jacket, he produced a folded sheet of plain paper. “I found this in my room.” He donned his glasses, and read: “Your energy and drive know no bounds, and soon, I’m sure, you’ll receive the acclaim of your peers.”
“That was from Edward?” Dan asked.
“Yes. At least, I assume so. He didn’t sign it, but I’m sure he meant it as an apology for the way he lost his temper yesterday.” Brian smiled around the group. “I’d have thought that was obvious.”
Dan leaned forward. “Can I see that?”
“Of course.” Brian handed him the note, and Dan studied it carefully. It was typewritten, the indentations of each character clearly visible in the thick writing paper. Dan held the paper up to the light. It was ivory in colour, and although the paper was perfectly smooth on one side, it had a distinctive ribbed texture on the back, and there was a watermark: the single word Conqueror.
“When did you find this?” Dan asked.
“Last night, when we came back from the restaurant. It was in my room. He must’ve slipped it under my door before he… left.”
“Interesting,” Tim chipped in. “I also found a note in my room. Like yours, it was unsigned, but I had no idea who it was from, so I didn’t attach much importance to it at the time.”
“I had one too,” Dominic said. “What did yours say?”
“I don’t have it with me, but I have a good memory for this sort of thing.” Tim took a breath as though about to make a speech. “The breadth of your vision spans the centuries, and your work will live on for years to come.” He sighed. “It was rather sweet, so I thought it might’ve been from Roz.”
Roz shook her head. “No. It was nothing to do with me, so perhaps it was from Edward. Dominic, do you have yours?”
“Yes. It’s here somewhere.” Dominic rifled through his bag, muttering under his breath. “Ah! Here it is.” He plucked a sheet from the mass of papers, and it looked to Dan as though it was typed on the same paper as Brian’s note.
“It was in my room last night. I must say, I guessed it might be from Edward at the time, and you’ll see why in a minute, but it slipped my mind entirely.” Dominic cleared his throat then read, “When sorrows come, they come not single spies, and mistakes are even more common. But soon, you’ll have a new horizon.”
“What made you think it was from Edward?” Dan asked.
“The reference to spies, of course. Edward always enjoyed playing with words, and he probably thought I’d enjoy the way he repurposed the quote from Hamlet.”
“I had a note,” Albert said. “I left it in my bag upstairs, but it was something about boldly venturing to new realms.” He shrugged. “I thought it was nice, but I had no idea who it had come from.”
“Mine was similar,” Marcus added. “It said, May your quests be ever more epic.”
“It seems as though everyone had a note except me,” Alan said.
“I didn’t get one,” Roz said quickly. “But then, I’m not staying at the hotel.” Her cheeks flushed a little. “What about the people who’ve gone home? I wonder if any of them had notes.”
“I could find out,” Dominic suggested. “I’ve got email addresses for everybody.”
“Good idea,” Dan said. “But we’re forgetting the most important note. Edward received one himself, didn’t he?”
“Yes. He thought his note was from me,” Brian replied. “But as I’ve said before, I didn’t write the blasted thing. And whoever did, they have a lot to answer for. They might as well have pushed him over the edge.” He winced. “Sorry, that was an unfortunate turn of phrase, but you know what I mean.”
“Do you still have it?” Dan asked.
Brian frowned. “Did you know that he hurled it at me? Looking back, you wonder if the strain was already starting to show.”
“But do you have the note or not?” Dan did his best to keep his tone level. “It could be important, Brian.”
“I might have it. I rarely throw anything away. Let me see.” Brian wore a tweed jacket, and he rummaged through the pockets in turn, producing a wad of receipts, two small notepads, a beermat and several sticky notes. “It doesn’t seem to be here. I wonder if I was wearing my other jacket.”
“You weren’t,” Alan said. “I remember.”
“Mm. I’ll have another look. The pockets in this old thing are somewhat capacious. That’s why I like it.” He delved into the pockets again. “Ah! Here it is.” He produced a ball of crumpled paper and uncurled it carefully.
Dan held out his hand. “Can I see it?”
“Sure.” Brian handed it over.
The note matched the others in that it was typewritten on the same paper, but its tone was altogether different. Dan read it aloud: “The writing is on the wall. Your secret is about to be revealed. Very soon you’ll get what you so richly deserve, and the world will see you for what you are.”
The room was silent, and Dan looked at each of them in turn. Someone had threatened Edward, and either they’d driven him to
despair, or they’d made good on their threat and done him harm. The person who’d sent that threat must’ve been close to Edward, so they were almost certainly in the room. All that remained was to find the culprit.
CHAPTER 10
After the meeting, Dan and Alan stood awkwardly in the hotel lobby.
“Where shall we start?” Alan asked.
“Start what?”
“Looking into Edward’s disappearance, of course. And don’t tell me you’re not going to do it, because I won’t believe it for a second.”
Dan raised an eyebrow. “I was thinking about asking a few questions. After all, Edward asked me to help him, and I feel as though I let him down.”
“You did nothing wrong, but there’s something strange going on, and I’m sure we could help if we put our minds to it.” Alan eyed Dan for a moment. “Do you want to start with the notes?”
“Not yet. The notes are interesting, but I’d prefer to start with a more direct line of enquiry.”
“Such as?”
“Edward’s room. It was pretty empty when I last saw it, but even so, I’d like to take a look around.”
“Good idea,” Alan said, “but I don’t think they’ll let you in.”
Dan smiled. “I have an idea about that. Let’s go and see what we can do.”
They climbed the stairs quickly, but Dan halted on the fourth landing.
“Edward’s room is on the next floor,” Alan said.
“Yes, but the housekeeper is on this one.” He indicated a glazed door, and through its window they could see a large laundry trolley stacked with a mound of clean white towels.
Dan pulled the door open and strode up to the trolley. Nearby, a room door stood ajar, and sounds of activity came from within.
“Hello,” Dan called out. “Could I have a little help out here?”
“Coming,” a woman’s voice said, and a moment later, Daphne appeared. She smiled politely, but there was something guarded in her expression, and she looked from Dan to Alan, measuring them up. “Can I help you with something, gentlemen?”