Murder Between the Tides

by Campling Michael

  The young woman turned to the astonished customer. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I hope I didn’t spill your drink or anything.”

  “No problem, my dear,” the man said. “No harm done. No harm at all.” He was seated with his back to the door, but Dan recognised Brian’s voice instantly.

  The young woman glared at Dan. “Excuse me. I need to get past.”

  “Of course.” Dan stood aside, and Alan did the same.

  “Sorry about that,” Alan said. “Our fault entirely.”

  “No worries.” She muttered something under her breath, then she stormed out through the door and was gone.

  Looking around, Brian saw them and beckoned them over. “Come in, come in. Please, feel free to join me. There’s just about enough room.”

  “Thanks,” Alan said, shrugging out of his coat and taking a chair at the table. “The place is packed.”

  Dan slipped his coat off and squeezed himself onto the remaining chair, fitting his knees under the table with some difficulty. “The harder it is to get a table, the better the coffee shop. If you can get a seat at 11 o’clock on any given morning, it’s a sure sign that the coffee is no good.”

  “Or it might be too expensive,” Alan argued.

  Dan shook his head. “If the coffee is good enough, people will pay.”

  Brian chuckled. “Is it always like this with you two? You’re quite the double act. And you certainly know how to make an entrance.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “She was a feisty little thing, wasn’t she?”

  “She said something as she went by,” Dan replied. “I’m sure it was meant as an insult, but I didn’t quite catch it.”

  “She called us emmets,” Alan said. “It’s a Cornish word for ants, but it’s often applied to tourists. In Devon, we say grockles, but it’s much the same thing. Outsiders, strangers, pests.”

  “That’s just rude.” Dan frowned. “Actually, I’ve seen her before. On Monday, when I went for a walk.”

  “Dear me!” Brian said. “I thought you were supposed to be some sort of Holmesian figure, a man with extraordinary powers of observation.”

  “I’ve never said any such thing,” Dan protested.

  “Don’t take offence,” Brian replied. “I don’t mean anything by it. It’s funny, that’s all. Your modern man doesn’t like to stare, and maybe that makes me a middle-aged lech, but I know a pretty face when I see one. And that young lady was the waitress at the Thai restaurant. Sure, she had her hair done up, and she was made up to the nines, but it was her all right. She has very pretty eyes.”

  Dan struggled to his feet, extricating himself from his seat with some difficulty.

  “What are you doing?” Alan asked.

  “I’m going to see if I can catch up with her.”

  Alan started to rise, but Dan waved him back.

  “I’ll explain later.” Dan raced outside, but the streets were almost empty, and there was no sign of the young woman. She could have gone into any one of a number of shops, but while it was one thing to catch up to someone in the street, it was quite another to pursue them into a building.

  Defeated, Dan went back inside and sat down.

  “I ordered you an Americano,” Alan said. He didn’t ask for an explanation, but his expression showed that he expected one.

  “Do you remember the way she behaved in the restaurant?” Dan asked. “At the time, we didn’t think much of it, but now, we have to wonder what horrified her so much that she had to run away. Did she recognise someone? Did she see someone do something? We have to know.”

  Brian shrugged. “Maybe she was having one of those days. A busy restaurant, she gets in a muddle, then she realises her mistake and dashes off to put it right.”

  “No,” Dan said. “She was genuinely shocked. You could hear it in her voice. She apologised before she disappeared into the kitchen.”

  Alan nodded. “She was definitely upset about something. I suppose we might run into her again. She’s obviously local. Where was she when you first saw her?”

  “She was sitting on a bench by the coastal path. I’d stopped to look at the view—”

  “Of the landscape or the pretty girl?” Brian chuckled, then he held up his hands. “Joke. Sorry. Carry on.”

  “She was sitting on a bench. She offered to move her guitar case so I could sit down. I told her not to worry about it, then she said she was leaving anyway.” He paused. “She went into a bar. I wonder if she plays there.”

  “We could ask,” Alan said. “They might not want to give out her details, but they’d probably pass a message on.”

  Brian sat back, his hands on the table, palms flat. “Sounds like a wild goose chase to me, but how you spend your time is your business. I’m just glad it puts me in the clear.”

  “How so?” Dan asked.

  “Well, as you were coming in, you saw how the young lady spoke to me. She was perfectly nice, apologetic even. So if there’s a bogeyman in our midst, it isn’t me.”

  Dan watched Brian, taking in the laughter lines around his eyes, the indentations on his nose from the habitual wearing of glasses, the frayed edge of his shirt collar. On first meeting, Dan had thought the man had a temper, but now, he saw another side to Brian; if he was a rogue, he was a likeable one. There was a spark in Brian’s eyes and a lightness in his gaze, as if he found the world to be a perpetual source of entertainment. And he was clearly an intelligent man. Was he clever enough to try and pull the wool over Dan’s eyes?

  A waiter arrived with their drinks, and while they all said thank you, Brian’s grateful words were the warmest, the most heartfelt.

  Dan sipped his coffee, then he leaned his elbows on the table. “Brian, what field is your doctorate in?”

  Brian wiggled his eyebrows. “Aha! Am I about to be interrogated? Gawd bless you, Mr Holmes, I’m an honest man, I am. I never done nothing, and anyway, nobody saw me.”

  Alan had been taking a drink, and he struggled to suppress a snort of laughter. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he said, “Come on, Dan. That was funny. Admit it.”

  “All right,” Dan replied. “Maybe I take myself too seriously, but one man has disappeared, and another has been murdered. Meanwhile, one of our friends is being grilled by the police, and I fear for her state of mind.”

  Brian made a show of straightening his face. “Quite right. If you want to help Roz, then count me in. I’ll help if I possibly can.”

  “Thank you,” Dan said. “I’m sorry if I came across as a bit heavy handed, but I’m genuinely interested. What’s your field of study?”

  “Regrettably, I’m no longer active in the world of academia.”

  “I thought you lectured,” Alan said. “I’ve heard you talk about it.”

  Brian sighed. “Oh, they wheel me in from time to time. In a world of dry talks and draughty lecture halls, I’m something of a minor celebrity: the boffin who became a well-known author. So I turn up and waffle on for an hour or so, reliving past glories. And they laugh politely at my old jokes, then they clap and make a fuss, but…” Brian smiled. “Time moves on, and I’m yesterday’s news. I’m not doing any research, so I’ve got nothing new to publish in the journals. The young Turks fill the lecture halls because I’m a novelty, but half of them have never heard of me, and the other half are laughing up their sleeves. But it pays pretty well, and my publisher likes me to do it; so as long as the universities keep asking, I’ll dust off my material and give it my best shot. The show must go on.”

  “I can imagine you’d be good at public speaking,” Dan said. “It’s a skill that not everyone has. But I can’t help noticing that you didn’t answer my question.”

  “Aha! Rumbled! I share my interest with that great criminal mastermind, Moriarty. Mathematics.”

  “That must be fascinating,” Dan replied. “I’ve often wished I was better at it.”

  “It’s a broad field,” Brian said. “Most people don’t understand that. They think of the maths
lessons they sat through in school, but there’s a lot more to it than that. There’s not this one thing called mathematics that you can study for a while and then say, there, I’ve done that. It’s more like a science. In many ways, it’s the science, the fundamental study that underpins all the others. It’s the framework by which we can investigate the universe.”

  Dan tilted his head to one side. “Interesting. I’ve never thought of it like that.”

  “You should write a non-fiction book,” Alan suggested. “There’s a big market for that kind of thing.”

  “I’ve kicked the idea around more times than I care to remember, but I want to move on. I prefer to spend my time dreaming up adventures.” He looked Alan in the eye. “Would you go back to teaching?”

  “No, not now,” Alan said. “Once a teacher, always a teacher, but I’m a scribbler now, and that’s that.”

  “Quite right.” Brian turned his attention to Dan. “So, is my interrogation over? I must say, as grillings go, I feel I’ve got off rather lightly.”

  “I do have one question,” Dan replied. “But I think you’ll appreciate it, because it’s a fundamental one.”

  “Intriguing. Go on then. Let’s hear it.”

  “On the night Rudge was killed, you’d been outside for some considerable time. Why?”

  Brian’s smile remained fixed, but the spark of humour faded from his eyes. “What makes you so sure I was outside?”

  “I saw you in the restaurant, and when you came in, you were still cold. You were pale, and your shoulders were hunched. When you passed, I remarked that it was a cold night, and you told me that the pavements were slippery. The word you used was treacherous.”

  “Yes. That’s right.” Brian took a drink from his coffee. Lowering his cup to the table, he stared at it for a while, and when he looked up, he seemed to have aged ten years, his cheeks sagging, his mouth downturned. “I’m supposed to have kicked the caffeine habit. The booze too. Fatty food, sugar, red meat: you name it, I’m supposed to have given it up.”

  “Oh dear,” Alan said. “Are you unwell?”

  Brian patted the left side of his chest. “Dodgy ticker. Aortic aneurysm. I’m scheduled for surgery in the new year. They gave me the date and told me I had to use the time to get myself back in shape. No stress. Strict diet. Plenty of fresh air and exercise.” He paused. “That’s one reason I was keen to come on this trip. I thought a few days by the sea would help. I even asked for a sea view, upgraded my room, but it hasn’t exactly been restful so far, has it? If anything, I feel in worse shape than when I arrived.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Dan said. “Is that why you were outside? You wanted some exercise?”

  “Sadly, no.” Brian let his words hang in the air, then he took a breath. “I used to smoke, all right? Heavily. That’s one of the reasons my heart is in such a bad way. But as soon as the doctors told me, I gave up, just like that. And I was doing so well. But this week…” He hung his head. “If my cardiologist knew about this, he’d probably kick me off the waiting list. But when Edward disappeared, and we all feared the worst, I couldn’t hack it. I caved in. And that night, I needed to get out, to grab a pack of cigarettes and light up. It was the only way I could cope.”

  Dan sniffed. “I can’t smell it on your clothes, and I can usually tell a smoker straight away.”

  “I only had a couple. Well, maybe it was more like five or six. I lost track. When I finished one, I lit another. Chain-smoking. The old habit came back. It was as if my fingers knew what they were doing. But after a while, I managed to get a grip. I threw the whole pack in the bin, lighter and all.”

  “Where did you walk?” Dan asked.

  “I can’t really tell you, not for sure. I was mooching through the streets, not really looking where I was going, thinking about Edward.” Brian paused. “We were never friends, at least, not what you’d call close friends. But we’ve known each other a long time. And I know him well enough to be worried about him. Very worried.”

  “What do you think might have happened to him?” Alan asked.

  Brian massaged his brow with his fingertips. “I really have no idea. No idea at all. I’ve turned it over in my mind time and time again, but I can’t get anywhere. He had so much to live for, has so much to live for. The idea he might have harmed himself in some way… it doesn’t make sense.”

  Dan fixed his gaze on Brian, then he said, “Do you think Edward could have killed Dominic Rudge?”

  Brian stared at Dan, then he turned to Alan. “Is he serious? Does he expect me to dignify that ridiculous question with a reply?”

  “It’s something we’ve been considering,” Alan said. “Edward could have staged his own disappearance, and then—”

  Brian slammed his palm against the table. “Nonsense! I’ve never heard anything so stupid in my entire life. I don’t know what you two think you’re doing, but you have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. And as for you, Alan, all I can say is that I expected better from you.”

  Brian stood, the legs of his chair juddering across the floor.

  “Please, calm down,” Dan said. “In your condition—”

  “Condition be damned!” Brian snapped. “I’ll not sit here while you besmirch Edward’s reputation. For all we know, the man may be suffering right now. He may even have been killed. And all you can do is wander around dreaming up crackpot theories! Well, I won’t stand for it. Goodbye. I’ve got nothing more to say to you.” With that, he marched to the door, his back straight. And a moment later, he was gone.

  “Ah,” Alan said. “That didn’t go well.”

  “No. It didn’t.” Dan glanced at the coffee shop’s clientele, most of whom were staring at him with frank amazement. Dan offered a reassuring smile, but the woman stalking toward them did not look as though she’d be so easily appeased.

  She halted in front of their table. “I’m Nikki, and I’m the owner. Is there a problem, gentlemen?”

  “Nothing serious,” Dan replied. “A misunderstanding.”

  “Hm.” Nikki pursed her lips. “A lot of our customers are regulars, and we try to keep a positive atmosphere. Restful. We don’t want any rowdy behaviour, thank you very much. So if you could finish your drinks quietly, it would be best all around.”

  “Of course,” Alan said. “Sorry about all the fuss. And by the way, this really is excellent coffee. The best I’ve had in ages. We were just saying that, weren’t we, Dan?”

  “What? Er, yes. Definitely. Five stars. On TripAdvisor and Google.”

  “That would be appreciated,” Nikki said. “Now, I understand that your friend didn’t pay his bill before he left, so I presume you’ll be settling it for him.”

  “Yes. No problem,” Dan replied.

  Nikki placed a slip of paper firmly on the table, and Dan scooped it up. “Oh.” Dan tried to conjure a smile. “I’m sorry, but this can’t be right. We’ve only had one drink each.”

  “You’ve had one coffee each, but your friend has been parked on this table for hours, drinking coffee and working his way through the cakes. It all adds up.”

  “So I see.” Dan took out his wallet, poring over his credit cards and trying to remember which one had the lowest balance.

  Alan plucked the bill from his fingers. “I’ll get this.”

  “I’ll fetch the card machine,” Nikki said, then she headed for the counter.

  “Blimey!” Alan muttered. “That’s a hell of a lot of coffee. No wonder Brian was on a short fuse. And all those cakes. If he’s telling the truth about his heart, the man must have a death wish.”

  “He’s rattled about something,” Dan said. “And the way he flew off the handle when I mentioned Edward…”

  “You think it’s a case of he doth protest too much?”

  “Could be.” Dan lifted his gaze to look past Alan. “Here comes Nikki. Best behaviour. And make sure you add a tip. I’d quite like to come here again, and as things stand, I think we might be barred.”<
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  Alan sighed. “The other day, I was thinking that it’s been quite some time since we were thrown out of an establishment, but I should’ve known. It was far too good to last.”

  “Yes, but on the plus side, the places we’re getting thrown out of are improving rapidly. If we keep this up, we could be getting kicked out of Michelin-starred restaurants before Christmas.”

  “Any more jokes, and you can pay the bill,” Alan said. “Grab your coat. As soon as I’ve paid, we’re leaving.”

  Outside, Dan and Alan loitered on the street.

  “Where next?” Alan asked. “Back to the hotel?”

  “No, I thought we could head along the coast, see if we can find that bar and track down the disappearing waitress.”

  “Fair enough,” Alan said. “But somehow, I don’t think she’ll be pleased to see us.”

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  A few minutes later, they rejoined the coastal path, but they hadn’t gone far when Dan’s phone rang, and he stopped to answer it: “Dan Corrigan.”

  “Hello, Mr Corrigan. It’s Detective Constable Kulkarni here, Devon and Cornwall police. We met last night at the Regent hotel.”

  “Yes. Would you like us to come over to have our fingerprints taken?”

  “Thanks, but there’s no need,” Kulkarni replied. “It turns out that the typewriter at the hotel hasn’t got anything to do with the case, so it’s not necessary to take your fingerprints at the moment.”

  “Right. Thanks for letting me know.” Dan hesitated, his mind racing. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how do you know that the typewriter isn’t important?”

  “Mr Corrigan, I’m sure you appreciate that, in any serious investigation, we tend to keep a tight rein on the information we release.”

  “Yes, but I was the one who suggested that you look at the typewriter, so surely it would be okay to let me know why I was wrong.” He lowered his voice, making his tone gentle. “Naturally, I’ve been distraught about what happened to Mr Rudge. So if there’s anything you can tell me, it would really put my mind at rest.”