‘I’m sorry, Daisy. The police weren’t as meticulous back then. Mistakes happened,’ said Pasco.
Max was watching Pasco carefully and his eyes narrowed slightly as Pasco cleared his throat.
Daisy looked up, her expression melancholy. ‘I guess this is yours.’ She held out the locket to Pasco. ‘You said you wore it all the time?’ she said, as the locket slipped from her fingers and into Pasco’s outstretched palm. She felt the pain of its loss return. She turned quickly to look at Max. His expression revealed everything. ‘You recognised my … the locket. Didn’t you? You knew all along it wasn’t my mother’s! Oh my God. I’ve been so stupid. Pouring my heart out to you and all along …’
Max’s expression changed with a jolt. ‘No, that’s not how it was.’ He paused as Daisy stood up. ‘Daisy, don’t jump to conclusions, listen to—’
But Daisy had had enough of listening and she cut him off. ‘Did you know it was Pasco’s locket? Yes or no?’ Daisy was resolute.
Max looked down and nodded. Daisy waited for him to offer an explanation but he said nothing. She watched him for a moment. He couldn’t even lift his head to speak to her. A lump rose in her throat and she swallowed hard before turning and walking out without another word.
Chapter Four
Daisy lay on her bed with Bug snoring happily beside her. She hated to admit it but feeling him there was a comfort. How could so much change in twenty-four hours, Daisy wondered. She had managed to let two men treat her like an idiot. Perhaps that was the bottom line: she was an idiot. One minute she was having fun with Guillaume and supposedly going off on a romantic boat ride and the next he was in a police cell and she was here alone. Guillaume was only using her as cover for his smuggling operation.
Max must have been laughing at her behind her back; he had known all along the locket was nothing to do with her mother. All the times she talked to him about it being the crucial link to what happened and all the while he had known it was a red herring. How could he have kept that from her? How could he have let her waffle on like a deranged fool? It was cruel and unnecessary.
Daisy rolled over and studied the calendar. It was early March. She had less than four months until her sentence in Ottercombe Bay was over. With the locket returned to Pasco it seemed there was no mystery to solve. If she kept repeating that to herself over the next few months then she could walk away from Ottercombe Bay having laid her mother properly to rest forever.
A couple of weeks later Max was strolling towards the pub after a thankfully uneventful day. ‘Pasco,’ he shouted, as he recognised the figure up ahead in the street. When his dad didn’t turn around he tried again. ‘Dad.’ This time Pasco stopped, turned and waited for Max to jog up to him.
‘Hiya Max, you all right after—’
‘What’s going on?’
Pasco held his hands up. ‘What have I done now?’
‘Not now. I’ve been going over everything and it’s what you did the night Sandy died that’s bothering me.’
Pasco’s cocky expression was gone. He stared at Max, a frown making his usually warm features appear harsh. ‘Nothing to do with me.’
‘Then how do you explain your locket winding up with Sandy’s stuff?’
Pasco clicked his neck as if trying to release some tension. He cleared his throat. Something he did when he was uncomfortable. ‘Like I said, son, it was a simple police cock-up. They make them all the time. And to be fair it’s not the most manly piece of jewellery; you can see how it could have happened can’t you?’ He placed an arm around Max’s shoulder in a conspiratorial gesture.
‘No. I don’t buy it. It’s too much of a coincidence that your locket ended up with her things. Come on, let’s have the truth.’
Pasco ran his fingers over his stubbled chin as if considering his answer. ‘Truth is police cocked it up.’ He gave a blasé shrug of his shoulders.
Max shook his head, he was losing his patience. ‘How about this for nearer the truth. You were off on a smuggling trip and Sandy is on the beach and she spots you but before she can tell anyone you knock her unconscious and she drowns?’
Pasco tried to laugh it off but Max could see the concern on his face and it made him uneasy. ‘You should write murder mysteries; you have a wild imagination.’ Pasco threw up his arms with dramatic effect. ‘This is the sort of stupid rumour that can damage a man’s reputation. Don’t you go saying this to anyone else.’
Max locked eyes with him. ‘Did you kill her?’
Pasco’s expression was one of dismay. He shook his head. ‘I won’t dignify that with an answer.’ He started to turn away from Max but Max held him firmly by his shoulder.
‘Daisy deserves to know the truth. And I bet my version of events is a damn sight closer to the truth than yours.’ He let go and didn’t wait for Pasco to respond, he was already striding away. The fact his father hadn’t profusely denied murder was laying heavy on him and he feared it was a sensation that wouldn’t go until he knew the truth.
The warm spring weather had brought the trees to life, the seagulls were back in full chorus and as the holidaymakers returned the sleepy town was waking up. Daisy needed it to be a good season. Locos was busy because Easter was fast approaching, the celebrations for which appeared to start early thanks to Daisy’s Singapore Sling cocktail promotion, and she was rushed off her feet. If she never had to make a Singapore Sling again it would be too soon. She swore she’d be making them in her sleep. With no Max or Guillaume, Daisy and Tamsyn were working flat out. On the plus side, it meant she didn’t have time to dwell on recent events. However, a little more time for sleep and general relaxation would have been welcome. In between customers Tamsyn passed Daisy a piece of paper and when she had a moment to catch her breath she studied it.
Daisy read the handwritten note.
22nd March is Tamsyn Turvey Day. Starting at your house at 8.30am. No need to be dressed. No money required.
Jason x
Daisy reread the note before handing it back to Tamsyn. ‘What’s it all about?’ she asked.
‘I’m not sure. What should I do?’
‘Definitely go,’ said Daisy, the curiosity was already making her itch.
‘Really? It sounds like a plot to get me to go out with him.’
‘And is that so bad?’
Tamsyn pressed her lips together. ‘The cards are still looking favourable for us. But …’
‘What is stopping you?’
‘You,’ she said bluntly.
‘Oh, I’ll be fine. Old Man Burgess will be in, I think we’ll manage.’
‘No, that wasn’t what I meant. We’re in a love triangle. You, me and Jason.’
‘First I’ve heard of it,’ said Daisy, her eyebrows drawn together. ‘And I think I would remember.’
Tamsyn pulled a face. ‘I figured you knew Jason has a thing for you.’
Daisy shook her head. ‘I think you’ve got it wrong. Have you seen the way he looks at you?’
‘I’m more interested in the looks he gives you.’ Tamsyn was forlorn.
‘That’s just testosterone at work, Tamsyn; he’s not serious.’
‘But if he likes you then he can never be a match for me. I believe people need to fit together like puzzle pieces.’ She was linking her thumbs and forefingers together as she spoke. ‘I’m looking for someone like me. No point wasting time trying to ram in a puzzle piece that’s never going to fit.’
‘Sometimes you talk such sense. You should listen to yourself sometimes. Not all the time, just sometimes.’ Daisy was surprised by her own words but it was true, occasionally Tamsyn provided insight and clarity often when you least expected it. It was also true that most of the time she spoke as if she was reporting from another planet.
‘I’m worried he’ll be comparing me to you. I do it a lot. And you win every time.’ Tamsyn hung her head and Daisy felt awful but had no idea why.
‘You shouldn’t do that. You’re a unique and beautiful person – inside
and out.’
‘Thanks but I don’t know what to do about this.’ Tamsyn waved the note.
‘What would Bilbo do?’ asked Daisy. ‘Apart from rub his ring.’ She giggled at her own joke.
‘He wears the ring,’ said Tamsyn, rolling her eyes. ‘I think Bilbo would go.’
‘Then you should too and with an open mind. See how you feel at the end of it.’
‘Mmm, okay,’ said Tamsyn and she carefully folded the note and put it in her bra.
Max approached the caravan park and the sight of smoke had him quickening his pace but when he got nearer he could see it was the remnants of a controlled fire. It looked like someone had been burning an old carpet. Max peered closer; it bore a striking resemblance to the cat pee one from the old railway carriage, which he’d paid a bloke a tenner to dispose of a few months back. Max turned his back on it and knocked on a dilapidated caravan nearby.
Pasco’s face lit up at the sight of his son on the doorstep. ‘Come in. I’ll put the kettle on,’ he said, walking away and picking up a dirty plate as he passed the arm of the sofa it was resting on.
‘What are you burning?’ asked Max, staying where he was.
‘Just some old carpet. People dump all sorts up here,’ said Pasco, with a conspiratorial wink.
‘You’d better have a permit for setting fire to it or Jason will be after you. I’m surprised he’s not here. A wisp of smoke and he appears like the genie from the lamp just in case it’s another shed going up.’
‘It’s covered by the site permits and all health and safety regulations were followed, don’t you worry. And it’s likely we won’t see any more shed fires.’
‘Why’s that?’ Max had an ominous feeling creeping over him.
‘I caught the little sod who’s doing it. I told him he’d end up like me and I think it scared him off.’ Pasco looked pleased with himself.
‘You sure?’ Max was doubtful.
‘Coupled with the fact I was sleeping in the shed at the time. I think that freaked him out.’
‘Have you told Jason?’
‘No, and I’m not going to. Anyway, come in.’
Max was reluctant but with his father retreating inside he could do little else but follow him. Shutting the door behind him, Max looked around the caravan. It was small and untidy but it wasn’t the total tip he’d been expecting it to be. ‘Coffee?’ asked Pasco.
‘Please.’
‘Sugar?’ Max shook his head; his father didn’t know him well at all.
It was becoming more awkward by the second. He felt guilty for wanting to escape the situation. There was only one reason he was here: Daisy. He knew Pasco was hiding something and until the truth was fully revealed Max would always be public enemy number one in Daisy’s eyes and he couldn’t bear it. He knew he had let her down and finding out exactly what Pasco’s involvement was in her mother’s death was the least he could do, even if it meant Pasco would be returning for a longer stint at her majesty’s pleasure. If he had to make a choice then it was Daisy and the truth over Pasco and his lies.
Pasco hurried through with the drinks and slopped them slightly in his eagerness to sit down. ‘It’s great to see you,’ he said, with a smile, which quickly faded as he studied Max’s face. ‘What’s wrong?’
Max picked up his mug and looked about for a coaster; when he couldn’t see one, he wiped away the wet ring it had left with his hand. ‘It’s Daisy …’
Pasco seemed to relax. ‘Girl trouble hey? You’ve come to the right place.’
‘No, it’s not that. She needs to know what happened to her mother.’
‘Only Ray would know about that,’ said Pasco nodding sagely.
‘I’m asking you what you know.’
‘Why?’ Pasco became defensive, leaning back and folding his arms.
Max tried to soften his tone. ‘Because if there is any possibility you know even the smallest piece of information about what happened to her, it may help Daisy to lay it all to rest.’ He was pleased with himself for staying calm. He sipped his coffee to stop him launching into a full-blown interrogation. He tried in vain to relax a little. When Max put down his mug and looked up his father was scratching his chin.
Pasco cleared his throat. ‘I wish I could help, son. I really do.’
Max felt his shoulders tense. He decided to try another tack. ‘What do you remember about that night?’
Pasco blinked. Gotcha, thought Max, trying hard not to let it show. Pasco pulled the sort of face you pull after a tequila shot. ‘Ooh, you’re talking about something that happened a very long time ago. And my memory’s not what it used to be.’ He tapped the side of his head and gave a tinkle of a laugh.
‘But in a small place like this, someone dying must have been a big tragedy. Something that would stick in your mind. Sort of like the local version of when JFK or Princess Diana died; they say you always remember what you were doing when you heard about those sad events.’
Max watched Pasco shift in his seat and clear his throat again. He rested his forearms on his thighs. ‘I remember there was a party.’ Pasco spoke slowly and deliberately. This was what Max was after. ‘I didn’t go. I was working. That’s all I know,’ said Pasco, maintaining eye contact with Max. If it hadn’t been for the tell-tale throat clearing Max may even have believed him.
‘Where were you working?’
‘I don’t remember now. I think I was helping out a mate.’ He picked up his mug as if to signal the conversation was over.
‘Where?’ Max wasn’t going to let it go easily.
‘Er …’ Pasco seemed to be trying to recall or was he simply conjuring up a believable lie? ‘Here at the caravan park.’
‘In March? What’s there to do in a caravan park that time of year?’ He had to force himself to keep the tone enquiring rather than accusatorial.
‘There’s a lot to do ahead of the Easter holidays and it was cash in hand.’
‘You remember that clear enough.’ Max couldn’t hide his sarcasm. ‘You and Mum were still together. If you walked home from here you would have taken the coastal path and must have walked past the beach where she was …’
‘I walked through town. I went straight home. I saw nothing. I had nothing to do with Sandy’s death.’
Pasco’s voice was firm. Max wasn’t going to get any further but he knew his father well enough to know he was hiding something and it worried him greatly.
‘Can I ask you something, Max?’
‘Sure,’ said Max, finishing his coffee.
Pasco studied his son. ‘Why don’t you believe me?’
Max narrowed his eyes as he pondered the question. ‘Because you’ve let me down in the past and it feels like too much of a coincidence that your locket just happened to get mixed up with Sandy’s belongings at the police station.’
Pasco’s lips made a flat line. ‘I know I’ve not exactly been reliable over the years but coincidences do sometimes happen. And you have to leave the past behind and move on.’ Pasco held Max’s stare for a moment and then relaxed back into the sofa. He’d given Max something to think about. Maybe there was a chance Pasco was telling the truth and perhaps there was no more to be gained by raking over the past.
Chapter Five
Tamsyn was woken by the sound of Jason’s voice and by the time she’d opened her eyes he was placing a tray on her bed. It was the 22nd of March.
‘Good morning,’ he said ridiculously cheerily.
Tamsyn rubbed her eyes like a small child, yawned and blinked. ‘What’s all this?’
‘Your mum let me in. This is the start of Tamsyn Turvey Day,’ said Jason proudly. ‘Toast and tea and a yellow rose because I know you like those,’ he added pointing to the things on the tray. Tamsyn couldn’t help the beam of a smile spreading across her face. She had a feeling she was going to enjoy today very much.
Their first stop was her absolutely favourite place, the donkey sanctuary, and thanks to Jason knowing the vet’s cousin she was allowe
d to spend the morning being a keeper. ‘You all right?’ called Jason, from a safe distance as Tamsyn flung manure and straw into a wheelbarrow.
‘Yeah, this is great.’
‘I’ve never seen someone enjoy mucking out before.’
‘It’s ace. I definitely want my own donkey,’ said Tamsyn, her face serious.
Next there was feeding and grooming and before she knew it she was out of her green overalls and borrowed steel cap boots, and sitting with a cup of coffee in the sanctuary café.
‘This has been the best day ever,’ she said. ‘Thank you, Jason.’
‘Drink up,’ he said with a grin. ‘You’re only halfway through.’
He was so kind and thoughtful, she thought. If today was about showing her what things would be like to be his girlfriend he was selling himself well.
‘You know you don’t have to do any of this,’ she said.
‘It’s not a bribe. I’m not expecting you to declare your undying love for me or anything.’ He gave a strangled laugh. ‘You’re my friend and I want you to know how special you are. That’s all.’
The next stop was another favourite of hers. The freshest local fare from the fish and chip van eaten on the sea front with a wooden fork with seagulls swooping above them in the hope of snatching a stray chip. It was a beautifully sunny day and the sea was rolling tamely onto the beach – it didn’t come much better in Tamsyn’s book. When she thought she was too full to eat anything else Jason produced a cake box from his rucksack.
Her eyes were like a bush baby’s. ‘Is it?’ She was too excited to finish the sentence.
‘Scones and clotted cream,’ he announced, flipping open the box lid. Tamsyn was in heaven.
After a delicious fresh scone, which crumbled in her mouth, she licked her fingers and was interested by the mix of chip vinegar and clotted cream. ‘Jason, that was amazing. Thank you.’
‘Uh-uh,’ said Jason with a shake of his head. ‘Not done yet.’ He checked his watch. ‘Come on.’ He held out his hand and Tamsyn took it. His fingers were warm and curled gently around hers. They both looked at their entwined hands and grinned. Something was starting to feel right.
Ottercombe Bay – Part Four Page 3
