‘Oh, Roger. How awful.’ Melanie bit her lip. She was not the only one to lose a child and how much harder when you had watched one grow into an adult. She had always been the guilty party yet everyone else seemed to be suffering for her present happiness.
Roger read her thoughts. ‘It’s all right, she was prepared for what I told her, I think we’d both come to the same decision before we went away, and no, I don’t feel the need to keep on seeing her because of what’s happened. My sympathy is worthless compared to what she’s going through and she doesn’t want the complication of an old relationship in the midst of her grief. Now, get your coat on, I’m taking you out to lunch to celebrate.’
Etta walked away from the telephone wondering at the power of the instrument. Within twenty-four hours she had received both good and bad news over the line. She paused in the lounge doorway, listening to the rain. The black clouds ought to have echoed her mood, but they didn’t. She suddenly realised that hearing Roger say those words had come as a relief, it was better he had ended the affair than her, at least she knew she would not be hurting him. Her spirits lifted a little. Tomorrow there was the inquest to get through, then she would take each day as it came. Inspector Pearce had advised her as to the form the inquest would take.
‘Mum?’ Etta was smiling, properly smiling. Sarah had thought she might never do so again.
‘That was Roger Hammond, Sarah. We won’t be seeing each other again.’
Sarah hugged her but pulled away quickly. These recent displays of affection still embarrassed her. ‘Aren’t you sad?’
‘Strangely enough, I’m not. Now, let’s have some coffee.’ No, she thought, I shall miss him for a while but that seems so insignificant when I think about losing Joe. And having Sarah back more than compensated for losing the few hours she and Roger had shared.
‘I’ll make it, you sit down.’
Etta did so, wondering why small kindnesses made her feel so raw and tearful. It’ll pass, she told herself. Look at Rose, she got through it, as had Roger’s wife many years ago. It was hard to accept that her daughter might be responsible for his recent financial loss but she was more to blame. If she had not met Roger it would not have happened.
Jack had manoeuvred an armchair to within reach of the phone and waited for it to ring. When it did he picked it up immediately and learned that the statements given by Mark Hurte and Sarah Chynoweth differed on several points. ‘Does Beddows fit the picture?’ he asked when he heard what the Hammonds had said.
Indeed he does, he thought, because William Beddows owned a yacht.
He had told Rose he would get in touch later but had forgotten his promise and only remembered when Evelyn rang.
‘Jack, my daughter’s manners are atrocious. We can’t have you hobbling around making do with a sandwich. I insist you come over for dinner. Arthur will collect you and drive you back, or Rose can.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Forbes, but –’
‘Evelyn, Jack. Don’t go all formal on me.’
‘All right. But what does Rose have to say about it?’
‘She’ll be delighted to see you. She’s in the kitchen now, making lettuce soup and doing something with one of the ugliest fishes I’ve ever set eyes on. Now, six thirty? We’ll have time for a drink before dinner then.’
‘If you’re sure.’
‘I’m quite sure. Goodbye, Jack.’
He hung up. That was the problem of food solved but his leg was not getting as much rest as it ought to have done. However, if the various cases were concluded by tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest, he would feel no guilt in taking a whole week off.
He was disappointed when it was Arthur and not Rose who came to collect him, but grateful all the same for a change of scenery. It was a long time since he had been cooped up in the flat all day, and the weather added to his vague depression.
‘She’s pushing the boat out tonight,’ Arthur said. ‘It must be for your benefit,’ he added with a barely concealed smile.
‘I doubt that very much, Arthur. She just likes cooking, especially for those who appreciate food.’
‘Ah, well.’
They continued the drive in silence. The storm had ended mid-afternoon and a watery sun spread pale fingers between the clouds. The roads were still wet but steaming in the warmth of what might turn out to be a nice evening. The sea was calmer but the tide was still running in fast. Ahead, in Newlyn harbour, the tall beams of the trawlers in their upright position could be seen. Not many, though – those that had gone to sea would have been way out beyond the storm and not in any danger.
Jack turned to Arthur when he indicated and pulled in outside the Star Inn. ‘Are we meeting them here?’ he asked.
‘No. I fancied a quick pint first – if you’re up to it, that is?’
Jack levered himself out of the car. Either his leg was healing fast or he was becoming used to the pain. He suspected it was the latter.
The pub was busier than they had anticipated because trade depended largely upon how many boats were in. Jack knew many of the customers, they had been to school with him, and Arthur, through Rose, was on nodding acquaintance with some of them.
‘What’ll it be?’
‘My shout,’ Arthur insisted as he ordered two pints of bitter. ‘Shall we sit or are you better off standing?’
‘Standing, I think.’
They moved to the corner of the short end of the bar where no one needed to push past and there was less chance of Jack’s leg being bumped accidentally. Jack waited. He was sure there was an ulterior motive for this unorchestrated part of the evening.
‘How well do you know Rose, Jack?’ Arthur looked ahead, as if the conversation was of no importance.
Jack considered the question before he answered it, watching the weatherbeaten, angular profile of Rose’s father. ‘I’m never very sure. Just when I think I’ve got to the bottom of her, she surprises me. But then, I don’t suppose anyone ever knows another person totally. Why do you ask?’
‘I don’t feel I know her either on occasions. Look, Jack,’ Arthur turned to face him, ‘this is probably too big a favour to ask, but would you sort of keep an eye on her?’
Even above the loud conversations Jack’s laughter caused heads to turn. ‘I think you’re asking the impossible. She isn’t one to be dictated to, nor will she take advice readily, but for your sake, I’ll try.’
‘You mean she’s stubborn.’
‘Yes, to put it mildly. Tell her one thing and she’ll do the opposite.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Arthur sighed.
‘But handled tactfully?’ Jack grinned. ‘Is that why we’re here? You want to employ me as her bodyguard?’
‘Put like that, it sounds rather ridiculous. I should not have asked you. Come on, we’d better drink up or we’ll be in trouble.’
‘Ah, there you are,’ Evelyn said, smelling the beer. Her tone suggested that they were several hours late rather than twenty minutes.
‘Hello, Jack.’ Rose was peering into the oven. ‘Help yourself to a drink.’
Evelyn tutted. ‘I’ll get it, Jack, you go in there and sit down.’
Satisfied that the food needed no more attention for a while, Rose joined them in the sitting-room. ‘You were going to ring me to let me know what happened today.’
‘Yes. I was tied up.’ It was safe to talk about it. Mark Hurte’s arrest and the charges brought against him had been released to the media. ‘A lot of what you said was right, Rose. And what’s more, it’s good news for Etta Chynoweth. Nothing can bring Joe back but, hard as it seems to believe, we now know his death was accidental.’
Rose leaned forward, her glass clasped between both hands. Her eyes were shining in anticipation. Jack looked away. Her cleavage was visible in the V-neck of her pale green cotton dress. It made him uneasy, aware of her power over him. He was never sure if he preferred her hair up or down. Tonight it was loose and she had put on some make-up but she still gave the impressio
n of being totally inaccessible.
‘Accidental?’
‘I’ll start at the beginning. Hurte was made aware that Sarah had made a statement. In his second interview he was far more forthcoming but he claimed he hadn’t seen Sarah on the bus that night.’
‘Of course not. That was puzzling me. If he had done so and then told Terry, they would not have waited until Sunday to pick her up. She would already have had over two days in which to go to the police. Sorry, go on.’
‘He met Beddows by chance and –’
‘Beddows?’
Jack shook his head, forgetting that, for once, he was several steps ahead of Rose. ‘Terry Beddows, the man he was with. Beddows had been sent down here by his father, a man named William Beddows. Now, the story goes back a long way. Beddows senior wanted two of the paintings possessed by Hammond. Terry was to find out where he lived, take a look at the security system then report back. His father would then send down the appropriate men to do the job.
‘Luck was with him. When he came across Hurte, who knew the Chynoweth family and all about Etta’s connection with Hammond, he got more information than he bargained for. It was a gift from the gods to discover exactly when the house would be unoccupied.’
‘I said as much, didn’t I? I thought it was more to do with the robbery than Joe’s death.’
Arthur glanced at his wife and shook his head. His earlier request of Jack would prove fruitless, he saw that now, but he had asked at his wife’s instigation.
‘Quite. Terry Beddows was aware that if the break-in was discovered too soon Sarah might guess that Mark Hurte had been involved because she had been the one to pass on the relevant information. Beddows knew the plan, he also knew that he couldn’t get away until Tuesday, so he persuaded Hurte that they needed to keep Sarah out of the way until then. The stuff was to be hidden for two nights to allow us to think it had already left the county if we happened to discover the burglary.’
‘But what reason did he give Mark for wanting her out of the way until then?’
‘He told him the truth, but he also told him that as the job was fixed for Sunday night Mark would have a perfect alibi. He would have been with Sarah the whole time. And he left him in no doubt as to what would happen to him if he didn’t go along with it. This was the reason he was prepared to sit it out with Sarah until Tuesday lunchtime.’
‘If you know all this you’ve obviously caught Terry Beddows.’
‘Yes. Well, not me, of course. He and two other men set out in a launch late this morning. They weren’t observed leaving shore so we suspect they must have hidden the craft in one of the small coves with the goods already aboard. Anyway, there was, as we suspected, another boat waiting for them, not Beddows’ father’s yacht as we’d imagined, that would’ve been far too risky, but what looked like a rusty old tub. Our people in Plymouth had not given up watching and they were caught as they were transferring the crates on board. Hurte didn’t confess to his knowledge of the robbery until he knew that Beddows was in custody. So, we got everyone who was involved, including William Beddows.’
‘Don’t look so smug, Jack. It was me who told you about the hut and the connection between Etta and Roger Hammond. If I hadn’t found that out they might have got away with it.’
‘You are, as always, quite right, Rose. Congratulations are in order.’
Arthur smiled to himself. Well done, Jack, he thought, tell her she’s right, it takes the wind out of her sails.
‘But how do you know Joe’s death was an accident?’
‘I was coming to that. He’d proposed to his girlfriend that night. She turned him down. We think he’d gone for a long walk, to cool off or think about life or whatever, but we’ll never know for certain.
‘He encountered Hurte and Beddows on that narrow bit of road near the old quarry where there’s no pavement. There’s no wooden fencing there either to protect pedestrians from the steep drop. According to Hurte, a car was drawing near on their side of the road and someone was approaching them on foot from the same direction; they didn’t know it was Joe, and Beddows, not realising the danger, stepped out of the way. He slipped. Joe grabbed his arm and Beddows struggled to keep his footing. In doing so Joe was thrown off balance and it was he who fell.’
‘How awful,’ Evelyn said. ‘That young man lost his life trying to help a stranger.’
‘And the heroin?’ Rose asked.
‘Hurte said that they made their way along to where there’s safe access down to the shoreline. He was told to stay put while Beddows went down to see if Joe was all right. But Joe was dead. Hurte didn’t know that at the time, he only heard it later on the radio and it was then he discovered the identity of the man. There hadn’t been enough time for him to recognise Joe and there’re no streetlights on that particular stretch of road.
‘Apparently Beddows rejoined Hurte. He was smiling. He told Hurte that the man was winded but otherwise okay, that the bushes had broken his fall, and that he intended to make his way back along the lower level, which is quite possible. We can only assume he planted the heroin in order to confuse the issue, but he’s not saying why he had it in the first place and I don’t think he ever will. We came to the conclusion it was a little sideline of his.’
‘Or, as I suggested, he intended using it to pay Mark off. Mark would have sold it and felt big. But what were they doing on that stretch of road in the first place?’
‘Looking for a vehicle. Hurte told Beddows that cars were sometimes parked overnight in the lay-bys. They’d already decided it was too risky nicking one in Penzance, especially in view of the CCTV cameras.’
‘What I don’t understand is why Terry’s father went to so much trouble for a couple of paintings, and why take everything?’
‘It’s more complex than that. Or, the man himself is. It’s all about obsession, Rose, obsession or maybe greed. William Beddows has always been just on the right side of the law. In other words, he’s never been caught before. He’s rich, but that isn’t enough for him. He’s acquisitive, but people and possessions only hold any value for him when they belong to someone else. I suppose when you have that much money, when you can afford anything you want, things to please you become harder to find. He was determined to have what Hammond had. Yes, it was only the two paintings he wanted but if nothing else was missing it would stand out a mile who had arranged for them to be taken.’ Jack paused and looked at the three other occupants of the room. ‘I take it this goes no further?’
‘You have our word.’ Arthur spoke for them all.
‘It was an act of revenge as well. Melanie Hammond initially gave us Beddows’ name, later she came in to make a voluntary statement. After he’d failed to persuade Hammond to sell he tried to get Melanie involved, promising anything she wanted in return for the paintings. He also tried to seduce her. In fact, for a long time he made a real nuisance of himself. Beddows not only wanted Hammond’s pictures, he wanted his wife as well. It didn’t seem to matter that he had one of his own.
‘She was totally honest with us, she admitted to other affairs, but she said that Beddows revolted her, she had turned him down on both counts.’
‘They can’t have had a happy marriage, the Hammonds, not if they both had affairs.’
‘No. But not everyone was as lucky as you, Rose.’
Evelyn was surprised at the forthright comment. Her daughter was on far more intimate terms with Jack Pearce than she had imagined if he was able to say such things to her.
Rose was quiet for a few minutes. She had been wrong, this was not about murder, but it was about a crime and, as Jack had pointed out, it all led back to the Chynoweths. ‘It makes me sad. Joe’s death was so unnecessary even if it was an accident. If neither party had been unfaithful Roger Hammond might not have been burgled, Mark and Terry might not have been on that particular piece of road and Joe would still be alive and Sarah would not have had to go through that ordeal.’ She saw why Terry Beddows felt he had to leave Joe
there: he could not afford to draw attention to himself and there was nothing he could have done for him. But it was an accident, she thought – he might at least have made an anonymous call from a phone box.
Jack coughed. ‘Oh, yes.’ Rose grinned, but she was blushing. ‘And you might not have been shot.’ She decided it was time to move on to happier things. ‘I’ll see to the rest of the meal,’ she said as she stood up. ‘Come and sit down in a couple of minutes.’
‘She’s some woman,’ Jack said when she had left the room.
‘Don’t we know it.’ Evelyn shook her head. ‘And to think we only came down for a quiet week’s holiday and the pleasure of being at her first solo exhibition. Oh, do look at that.’ She was facing the bay. It had turned out to be a perfect summer’s evening. The remnants of cloud had rolled inland leaving a clear blue sky. From the slightly open window came the pungent scents of damp soil and lavender. After the rain the air was fresher and the signs pointed to another fine day tomorrow.
‘We’ve got one more full day, Arthur. Let’s take Rose somewhere special.’
‘Good idea. You can decide where.’
‘Come on, it’s ready.’ Rose stood in the doorway, flowered oven gloves in her hand.
‘Good. I’m hungry. And I can’t wait to taste the fish.’ Arthur said with what he hoped sounded like enthusiasm.
‘Lettuce soup?’ Jack whispered to him with a grimace as they followed Evelyn across the hall.
‘I know. That’s what I thought, but wait until you taste it. It’s a lot nicer than it sounds. How’s the leg bearing up?’
‘Pretty well, really. Thanks for asking.’ Which is more than your daughter has done, he thought. Then he smiled. In the kitchen he found Rose, just as he had known he would do, with a wine bottle between her knees as she tugged on the corkscrew.
No one mentioned the Chynoweths while they ate. The wine and food were delicious and the atmosphere lightened further when Rose described to Jack her mother’s advice to Laura regarding her matrimonial problems.
Betrayed in Cornwall Page 17
