Treasure of the Heart

by Ruth Saberton

  Chapter 27

  “Issie! Issie! Wake up! It’s all going mad! The police are here and they’re taking Dad to the station for questioning!”

  Issie opened her eyes and saw her brother Nick sitting on her bed. He was fully dressed, bright-eyed and looking full of beans, whereas she felt as though she’d only been asleep for a few minutes. Her head was woolly, her mouth was dry and her eyes were still swollen from crying late into the night.

  The excitement of events at the café and of the police raid that had followed had barely registered with Issie: all she could think about was Luke’s betrayal. She kept telling herself she hated him, but her heart didn’t want to listen. It leapt whenever her treacherous thoughts strayed to his kisses and the thrill of feeling his skin against hers. Last night, when most of the villagers had headed to the pub to discuss the café drama, Issie had stayed at home. She’d worked her way through what was left of the Christmas sherry, before passing out.

  And the worst thing of all? After going to all the effort of drinking herself into oblivion she’d even dreamed about him…

  “Why aren’t you at sea?” she croaked. Her brother was dressed in his customary smock, jeans and rigger boots – but he was usually long gone by dawn, and the light stealing through the curtains suggested it was way past this time.

  “None of us can go, because the police are searching all the boats. The quay’s off limits,” said Nick. “But never mind all that. Didn’t you hear me? Dad’s had to go to the police station to help with enquiries, and Granny’s frantic. So come on, get up!”

  Her brother whipped off the duvet and the arctic blast of air jolted Issie awake. Her brain felt as though it was swivelling in her cranium, and for a moment her every cell screamed out for coffee. Then the shock of Nick’s words sank in.

  “The police are questioning Dad? But why? This is nothing to do with him!”

  “He was working for Mickey Davey, wasn’t he?”

  “Delivering pasties and helping him haul crab pots, not smuggling drugs. Jesus, Nick! Dad’s daft but he’d never be involved in anything like that!”

  “Not intentionally, but apparently Mickey was smuggling the cannabis out in pasties,” Nick told her, a grim expression on his face.

  Issie stared at him. “The pasties Dad was delivering?”

  “You’ve got it. It gets worse. Apparently a boat was dropping the cannabis out at sea in crab pots – and we all know who was helping to haul those, don’t we?”

  “But that’s just coincidence!” Issie cried, although even with a pounding techno beat in her skull, she could appreciate that the situation didn’t look good.

  “Of course it is, but just to make things worse he’s been smuggling cocaine too. It was disguised as flour, apparently. Sy took a delivery by mistake the other day, so I bet they’ll question him too,” Nick continued. “And we’ve all used the café as well.”

  “Everyone in the village uses the beach café,” Issie pointed out.

  “We know that, but you must admit it doesn’t look so great for us this morning. Council of war in the kitchen in ten, OK? Now move your arse!”

  Issie dragged herself out of bed and somehow managed to have a shower. By the time she’d made her way into the kitchen, dressed in jogging bottoms and a tee-shirt, she was starting to feel slightly more human. The coffee Summer had brewed was helping to revive her too, although Issie still felt as though she was having an out-of-body experience.

  With the noticeable exception of Jimmy (and Jake, who’d driven his father to the police station in Bodmin), the extended family had gathered around the kitchen table. Alice was in her usual place by the Aga, but for once she was sitting down and letting Mo and Summer sort out toast and tea. This was a sure sign that Alice was worried; usually, nothing could keep her from running around after her family. Jonny St Milton was here already, holding her hand and murmuring soothing words. Even Jules had arrived, straight from early-morning prayers and still in her cassock. Issie really hoped she had a direct hotline to her boss, because if anyone needed divine intervention right now it was Jimmy Tremaine.

  “I’ve called my lawyer and he’s on standby if we need him,” Ashley Carstairs was saying to Danny, who nodded.

  “Thanks, but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Two minutes with Dad and any copper with sense will know he’s totally clueless. Mickey just used him.”

  “Mickey used the whole village,” said Alice bitterly. “He’s not the first and he won’t be the last. Cornwall’s always been a magnet for smugglers.”

  Honestly, thought Issie as she curled up on the sofa by the Aga, she was sick to the back teeth of smugglers, dead or alive.

  “It’s a magnet for the press right now,” said Jules. “It’s gone crazy down there. When I came past the green the Pollards were talking to the BBC and Caspar was being interviewed by Radio Cornwall. I even overheard Ivy Lawrence telling Sky TV that she’d never trusted Mickey.”

  “Ivy doesn’t trust anyone,” Alice remarked. “Besides, did any of us trust him?”

  As the discussion turned to how everyone had always known Mickey was bad news, Issie helped herself to a couple of the day’s newspapers and began to read. With every word she was more astonished. No wonder a swarm of reporters had descended: this was already being hailed as one of Britain’s biggest drugs busts. Once again, Polwenna Bay was in the national press because of a smuggler.

  It certainly made a good story. Issie read on, hardly able to believe that all this had been happening right under her nose – quite literally, at times. Whoever could have imagined that there was over a tonne of cannabis hidden beneath the café floor? Or that it was being smuggled out in the pasties? It was like something out of Midsomer Murders. According to several reports, the floor of the café had been hollowed out to make a small bunker. All along, the modern-day equivalent of Black Jack Jago’s activities had been taking place only metres from Black Jack’s tunnel.

  As Issie was trying to take this in, the phone rang. It was Jake, calling to let them know he was on his way back.

  “With Jimmy?” Alice asked. She was gripping Jonny’s hand tightly and looked close to tears.

  “With Jimmy,” confirmed Ashley, who’d taken the call. At this, Alice slumped against Jonny with relief.

  “And that’s it?” Mo said. “He’s in the clear?”

  Ashley nodded. “He’s been released without any further enquiries. He made a statement and apparently that’s it. Jake says it was very apparent he really didn’t have a clue.”

  “About the drugs or just in general?” muttered Danny, and Jules shot him a warning look.

  “That’s fantastic news,” Jules said warmly, to the others. “I’ll make us more tea and toast, shall I?”

  “How about some pancakes?” Nick asked hopefully. “With bacon? And maple syrup?”

  Just the thought of frying bacon was enough to make Issie’s stomach curdle. Leaving her family to it, she slipped out of the back door. Some fresh air and a walk along the cliffs were what she needed to clear the remnants of her hangover. Mending her broken heart was another matter entirely.

  * * *

  While Polwenna Bay came to terms with its new infamy as the home of one of the UK’s biggest drugs hauls, Luke Dawson was grappling with the idiosyncrasies of the London Underground and doing his best to negotiate Piccadilly. Jeez. London in the rain was hard work. The Brits might have the whole thing down to a fine art as they swarmed out of the underground stations with their umbrellas and scurried along the greasy pavements, seemingly oblivious to the red buses swishing by only inches from their elbows – but Luke was struggling. Icy water trickled down his collar, he’d almost lost an eye to a rogue umbrella spoke, and trying to navigate using his cell phone had proved impossible with the rain blurring the screen. By the time he stood dripping in the foyer of Stella’s hotel, Luke was cold, pissed off and longing for Florida. England could keep her cups of tea and royals and god-awful weather: give him sun
shine and Starbucks any day.

  Stella’s suite was on the sixth floor. As Luke rode the elevator, or lift as they insisted on calling it here, he did his best to dry his face and hair with his sweater. A glance in the mirrored interior made him wince. He looked like a bum. His chin was dark with stubble, his curls were tight with damp and his clothes were creased from sleeping in the car. He hardly fitted in with the clientele of this elegant boutique hotel. Small wonder the concierge had looked a little surprised when Stella had affirmed he was meeting her.

  Luke guessed he could have spent the night in a hotel if he’d wanted to – albeit nowhere near as plush as this one, with its ankle-deep carpets and original artwork. But since even staying in a Travelodge would have meant using some of the funds Stella had given him, there was no way he would do this. He wouldn’t accept another cent from her, and he fully intended to pay back everything she’d advanced him. As far as Luke was concerned their business relationship was over.

  Now all he had to do was make this clear to Stella.

  Luke pulled his cell phone from his pocket and scrolled through the photo gallery, until he reached the images Issie had snapped in the tunnel. Even in the warmth of this luxurious city hotel he shivered. He would never forget that experience and what they’d discovered resting beneath the village. The images were dark but, even so, when Luke had zoomed in on them, there was no mistaking the evidence: at least some of the lost treasure was visible in that underground passage, along with the remains of the man who’d stolen it. Black Jack had died for that gold – and so had others, if the legends were to be believed. If Luke didn’t stick to his guns now, who knew what other tragedies might unfold? Already Luke had lost the one woman he’d ever truly cared about, and that seemed bad enough.

  He shook his head. On previous explorations, he’d been deep beneath the ocean, encased in a mask and breathing through an oxygen tank; he’d always felt somewhat removed from what he was looking at. The discovery in the tunnel had been immediate and shockingly real. This job didn’t feel the same as the others had done. It felt like grave-robbing. His finger hovered over the screen before selecting all the images and deleting every last one. Then, for good measure, he double-checked that there was no remaining trace of them anywhere.

  That was it. For better or for worse, the evidence was gone.

  Abruptly, the elevator doors hissed opened and Luke stepped out into a palatial suite, so blindingly white that for a moment he blinked. Sheesh. You could lose a polar bear in here.

  “Luke!” Stepping out of the whiteness was Stella, clad in a pristine bathrobe. She held a champagne flute in her tanned fingers and was smiling at him, her eyes shining with excitement and promises. Stepping forward and rising onto her immaculate red-nailed toes, she brushed her lips against his cheek.

  “I was expecting you last night. Still, I didn’t fly in till late, so maybe it’s just as well, huh? You wouldn’t have had the best of me. Come and have some champagne. We’ve got some celebrating to do.”

  She swished her way over to the ice bucket and lifted out a magnum of vintage Taittinger. Luke watched her helplessly.

  “Stella, we need to talk.”

  “And we will, once we’ve had a glass of this and caught up! Fetch a champagne flute from the bar there, will you? We need a toast. This is a celebration. You’ve found the treasure!”

  This was it, the point from which there could be no turning back. The recognition and success he’d always wanted was at his fingertips, but it wasn’t enough anymore. He’d be selling out, no more his own man this time around than he had been with his father – and he’d be betraying Issie too. There was no way he could ever tell Stella what they’d really discovered. The price of success was far too high.

  “There’s nothing to celebrate, Stella.”

  She laughed. “Of course there is! You’ve located the Isabella’s cargo! You told me yourself. We’re rich, honey! I’d say that’s something worth celebrating.”

  He shook his head. “No, we’re not. I made a mistake.”

  She stared at him. “I don’t understand.”

  “I was wrong. The things I found weren’t…” He struggled for a minute, hating to lie but even more reluctant to give the slightest thing away. “I guess it wasn’t what I thought it was. I was mistaken.”

  “What do you mean, mistaken?” She took a step back, her kitten-like playfulness vanishing in an instant.

  “I don’t believe you,” she said slowly. “You’re hiding something. You were so certain. You even said you had evidence.”

  “I thought I did, but I was wrong.”

  Stella’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t sound as though you had any doubts when you called me. You sounded one hundred percent certain. Evidence that proves everything, was what you said, so let me be the judge. Where are the photos you told me about? Or are you keeping them and the find for yourself? Is that it? Are you playing me for a fool just because I let you screw me?”

  Luke was horrified. “Christ, Stella, I’m not that much of a bastard. What we had and our business arrangement were two different things.”

  “Yeah right,” she said bitterly. “How like a man.”

  Luke shook his head. “I’m real sorry, Stella, but I guess it was all a wild goose chase. I was wrong about the treasure. That happens sometimes in this business. It’s risky, but you knew that. I did warn you.”

  In answer she knocked back her drink, and this time when her eyes met his they blazed with anger.

  “Screw your warnings! You promised me that you’d found it. You told me there was evidence.”

  “I know and I’m sorry but—”

  “Don’t you dare try and apologise to me!” Her voice was a screech of fury. “Not when I’ve done everything to make this work for you! Have you any idea what I’ve been putting in place or how hard I’ve worked?”

  Luke spread his hands. “Stella, this is how it goes in my business. Sometimes a lead plays out and sometimes it doesn’t. That’s the gamble.”

  But Stella wasn’t listening to him. She poured another glass of champagne and began pacing the suite, tense with rage.

  “Goddamn you, Luke! How could you do this? I thought you were a professional?”

  That stung but Luke knew he had to take it. “This was just a lead that didn’t quite play out. It happens in this game. Ask any of the guys.”

  “I’m not sponsoring them. I’m sponsoring you, and you told me this was a certainty,” Stella hissed, rounding on him like a cobra. “For Christ’s sake! I’ve pulled in big favours here for you! I’ve got a billionaire flying over on his Learjet to set up a sponsorship deal, and my friend in PR has been in touch with all the nationals and they’re desperate for an exclusive. I’ve set up a big press conference this afternoon – it was what I was about to celebrate with you.”

  “Stella, I’m sorry, but I never asked you to do any of that. Nothing’s ever certain in this game until there’s actually something tangible recovered.”

  “You said there was evidence! You told me you’d found it! How did you manage to screw that up so completely? Are you fucking incompetent?”

  Her words were like a lash and Luke winced. His reputation and his ability meant the world to him. He’d even sacrificed his relationship with his father to protect his professional name. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to tell Stella the truth and throw Polwenna Bay to the wolves. He’d be made. Everything he’d always wanted would be his.

  The problem was, Luke didn’t want those things quite as much anymore. His obsession with finding treasure and making his name felt like they belonged to another life. Ashley Carstairs was right: riches weren’t always in the places you expected to find them.

  “I even cancelled my holiday,” Stella said bitterly.

  Luke looked at her in disbelief. He’d told her to stay in the Caribbean but she’d insisted on catching a flight anyway. As for all the publicity she’d sorted? He’d never wanted or asked for t
hat. Usually there were all kinds of legalities to deal with first before the salvage team had any claim. She’d more than jumped the gun; she’d run the race before the gun had even been loaded.

  “I’ll take all the blame,” he told her quietly. “I’ll come to the press conference and I’ll tell them all it was my mistake. I’ll apologise to your friend as well. Everyone will know this was my error and not yours.”

  “Damn right they will.” She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. “I’m not having my name dragged through the dirt. You’ve made an idiot of me, Luke Dawson, and no man does that and gets away with it.”

  “If I did that then I never meant to. I appreciate everything you did to help with this and I’ll pay you back every cent,” he told her.

  She gave a resentful laugh. “You’ll need every cent you’ve got by the time I’m through. I’ll make sure your career’s over; you can bet your life on that. By the time I’m finished nobody will hire you to drive a goddamn pedalo!”

  “Go ahead,” Luke sighed. “Do whatever you need to do, Stella. I won’t argue with you.”

  This was probably the least he deserved for letting her down. So he’d seem like an idiot and his career would be in tatters, but at least he could hold his head up and look the world in the eye. Whatever else he might have done, he wouldn’t have sold Issie and Polwenna Bay out to further his own ambitions – and that was all he cared about now.

  Leaving Stella snarling into her cell phone, Luke stepped into the elevator, his heart a thousand times lighter than it had been on the journey up. Where he might go from here was anyone’s guess, but he would be going there with his self-respect intact.

  It really was true: there were some things in life you couldn’t put a price on. He just hoped he wasn’t too late to make that clear to the only person who mattered.

  Chapter 28

  The tide was right out, leaving the beach glistening in the morning light. Its jagged rocks were no longer submerged beneath the waves, but now resembled darkened teeth rooted in the wet sand. Although the quay remained cordoned off while police searched the trawlers and the fishermen’s stores, the beach was still open to the public. A few die-hard visitors were already hard at work with their metal detectors and shovels. Everyone else was gathered as close to the café as possible, taking selfies and craning their necks to be in the shot of a news broadcast. Bobby and Joe Penhalligan looked as though they were trying to inhale whatever fumes might be lingering from the fire, which made Issie laugh. Mickey Davey hadn’t intended to give the village a free high, but even her grandmother and Jonny had giggled for most of yesterday afternoon before raiding the fridge. Pensioners with the munchies. You couldn’t make it up!