Dangerous Secrets

by Chrissie Loveday

  ‘Dad kept some wine out there, I think. They did regular trips to France. Booze cruises.’ Ryan felt irrationally pleased the thieves might have taken something his father might actually miss. He led the way outside and saw the broken hasp hanging loose, with the still locked padlock attached. They looked at each other and shrugged.

  ‘Looks like they found this too,’ Ryan said. ‘God, what a stink. There must be something rotting in there.’ He pulled the door open and reeled back gasping. The heap of old clothes smelled sickly sweet and rotten at the same time. Julia went white as if she was about to faint.

  ‘See to the lady, would you, sir?’ the officer asked. He blanched himself as he realised the bundle of old rags contained the decaying remains of a human life. He pressed his handkerchief over his face and peered into the gloom. He took stock of the situation before moving back and drawing in lungs full of fresh air. He pushed the door to again and turned to the Rentons, his face grave.

  ‘I think it would be a good idea if you both went back inside. You might put a kettle on and make us all a cup of tea. I suspect this is going to be a long day.’

  He pulled his radio out and made his report. He walked down the garden towards the sea, as if he too, needed to put a few yards between himself and the abomination he had just discovered. He sucked the fresh air deeply into his lungs

  ‘Poor sod,’ he muttered. It was obvious what had happened. Some old tramp must have tried to take shelter, found the wine and thought all his Christmases had come at once. Drank himself to death probably. The forensic blokes would know. Suspicious deaths didn’t come his way too often, thank goodness. His ambition was long gone and the quiet life suited him just fine as he approached retirement.

  He turned and went back into the house. Odd couple, he thought, these two Renton youngsters. He remembered their mother from way back, a charming lady, rather on the quiet side but always polite when she’d asked him to keep an eye on this place. He’d seen her with these two when they were small enough to enjoy beach holidays. Then there had been the larger groups of teenagers, surfing and building bonfires on the beach at night. Harmless youngsters having fun. He’d sometimes seen extra tents in the garden to house them all. He knew the cottage had been in the family for years, since their mother had been a girl herself and come for holidays with her own parents.

  ‘How’s your mother?’ he asked trying to calm the situation. ‘Haven’t seen her down here for a while.’

  ‘Mum died a few weeks ago,’ Ryan said, his voice sounding deliberately flat and devoid of feeling. If he allowed his emotions to show he knew wouldn’t be able to cope.

  ‘Oh no,’ Sergeant Trekellis said softly. ‘Oh dear, no. I’m so sorry to hear that. I was fond of your mum. Lovely young lady, she was. I watched her grow up and then she married and had you two. Oh dear me. Accident was it?’

  ‘She had cancer. It was very quick in the end.’ Julia was still clinging to her belief that her death had been caused by her illness or at least by an accidental overdose. Not suicide. Not when Julia was away. She would have waited for her daughter to return, if only to say goodbye. Julia dug her nails into her palm. She was not going to cry.

  ‘Oh, the poor lady,’ the sergeant continued.

  ‘I’ll make some coffee. There isn’t any tea. I could go to the shop,’ Julia muttered.

  ‘Coffee’s fine, thanks. And you’d best wait till the inspector gets here before you go off shopping.’

  He watched the youngsters. They must be in their twenties, he reckoned. The boy seemed agitated but then, the shock of this gruesome discovery on top if his mother’s death was enough to shake the strongest body. Ryan Renton didn’t look as if he came anywhere near strong. There was something about him but he hadn’t worked out what it was. He turned his attention to Julia. She didn’t resemble her mother at all. Though currently she was rather pale and with dark rings under eyes, she was certainly something of a looker. She had the same dark hair and deep brown eyes as her brother. They must take after their father. The sergeant couldn’t quite place him, having mostly known the wife and her parents. The daughter was taller than many women of his acquaintance, unlike her rather delicate looking mother. Cancer, he mused. Seemed nobody, however wealthy, was safe from that disease.

  ‘Sorry, there isn’t any sugar either,’ apologised Julia, handing him the mug of coffee.

  He grimaced slightly but remembered a pack of sweetener his wife had taken from some café. He’d scolded her for pilfering at the time but she’d argued it was there for the taking. She was determined he would lose some weight. He felt around in his pocket and pulled out the crumpled packet.

  ‘Carry my own sweetener,’ he smiled.

  ‘What do you think it was, in the outhouse? Something dumped there?’

  ‘I’m sorry to say it, miss, but it is undoubtedly human remains. Been there a while I’d say.’

  Julia paled. She sat down heavily, her head reeling and almost ready to retch. Ryan came in from the kitchen.

  ‘What is it, Jules? Something wrong?’

  ‘It’s the body, sir, in your outhouse.’ It was Ryan’s turn to look sick. ‘The Inspector’s on his way. Don’t worry, sir, madam. I expect it will be just a formality. Poor sod obviously took shelter and maybe got himself stuck in there. Drunk most likely.’

  ‘But how long has he been there? I mean to say, we haven’t been down for months.’

  ‘Hard to tell. It could have been quite some time, judging by the state of decomposition.’ The policeman was trying hard to remain impassive but inside, he was fighting off his own waves of nausea. His normally peaceful life in this quiet corner of Cornwall was rarely troubled by anything more than thefts and occasional rowdiness from holidaymakers.

  ‘It’s all too ghastly,’ Julia said. She was still feeling sick. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever feel the same about this place again.’

  Ryan put a comforting hand on her shoulder. ‘P’raps you should go to the shop? Buy some tea and stuff.’

  Sergeant Trekellis looked doubtful but then began to smile.

  ‘You could get some sugar as well. I happen to know the Inspector has a sweet tooth. A biscuit wouldn’t go amiss either.’

  Julia drove along the lane beside the sea, the quarter of a mile to the village shop. Myrtle Jones smiled her welcome and began her usual friendly interrogation. The news had already reached her ears. Her interview techniques could put the sergeant in the shade.

  ‘I hear Sergeant Trekellis is at your mother’s place. Nothing wrong I hope? Haven’t seen you since last year. Everything going well for you is it?’

  Julia sighed gently. How on earth had that bit of news spread so quickly? It was no use even trying to avoid giving answers and anyway, it did have the advantage that the entire village would soon be informed of all the goings on. In the long run, it might save endless repetition.

  ‘My mother died recently. The cottage was left to my brother and me and we came down for a short stay. We’ve had a break-in and someone has died in our outhouse. Think that’s about it for news.’

  She spoke calmly, turning to pick up a pack of biscuits to add to the basket. As she dumped it down next to the till, she lost all her careful control and burst into tears. Myrtle rushed round from behind the counter and put her arms round the girl’s shoulders.

  ‘You poor dear. Come and sit down at the back. I’ll pop the kettle on.’ Julia allowed herself to be led to the tiny store room at the back of the shop and perched on a pile of cartons, tears running down her face.

  ‘I’m sorry. Don’t know what came over me,’ she mumbled. ‘I don’t usually cry.’

  ‘You poor dear. Just you let it all out. Nothing like a good cry for releasing the tension. That and a strong cuppa.’ The shopkeeper snatched a new box of tissues from the carton and handed it to Julia.

  ‘That’s right dear. Sit there for a mo.’ She busied herself with the small tasks and went into the shop again, turning over the open sign and sliding
the bolt across the door. ‘We won’t be disturbed for a while now and you can tell me everything.’

  As briefly as she was able, Julia told the kindly woman the bare bones of the story. She listened without comment, her eyes bright with interest. Only when Julia paused to sip the hot tea, did the shopkeeper speak.

  ‘What a horrible experience for you my dear. And does anyone know who the poor old thing might be?’

  ‘Not yet. Probably some old tramp or something, the sergeant suggested. Has there been anyone hanging round over the winter?’

  ‘Bless you, yes of course, there are always some of these people around. Always trying to get shut of them, we are. Someone’s organising a petition to get rid of them. Harmless mostly. Just old boys looking for a bit of warmth. Not so bad down here in Cornwall, of course but there’s winds that would freeze your very soul some days. But the thefts … I reckon that’s down to someone else, dear. Don’t think any of our old boys would do sort of thing. Quite a worry. You’d do well to talk to Mr Davies. You know, the one that runs the holiday lets? Owns most of the damned place, it seems to me. He might have some ideas. Most of his places seem to have been done over. He’s got some security firm in now, I believe.’

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Jones. I’m really very grateful and sorry to weep all over you.’

  ‘Don’t mention it, dear. Just you come back any time. I’m always willing to lend an ear, not to mention the excuse to make a cuppa.’

  Julia rose from the box she had been using as a seat and picked up the wire basket with her shopping. She added a few more items to the collection and paid at the till. Myrtle had unlocked the door and was talking to one of new arrivals who were curious to know why the door had been locked. Julia smiled ruefully, knowing that the full details, such as they were, would be broadcast as soon as she left the shop.

  By the time she returned to the cottage, several cars were parked outside. The constable at the gate barred her way.

  ‘Here she is,’ Sergeant Trekellis said, grinning at her. ‘The lady to make us a cuppa.’

  She felt irritation welling up inside her. Why did he have to be so bloody hearty? And what was it with people who seemed to think that eternal cups of tea could cure every ill? She vowed she would never drink tea again once this was all over. The whole world was crashing around her and all they could think of was bloody tea.

  ‘You’d better put the kettle on, Ryan,’ she ordered. ‘Seems nothing can be solved without endless tea.’

  Chapter Two

  Around three o’clock that afternoon, Julia walked away from the cottage alone. She’d had enough of strangers invading her territory and spoiling what was to have been a quiet time coming to terms with the disasters threatening her life.

  Ryan was concerned about leaving the cottage in the hands of so many strangers. There were forensic scientists fingerprinting everything, assorted constables whose sole purpose in life was to bar all entrances and exits, reporters from the local papers plain-clothes officers who conferred in low voices. The over-excited Sergeant Trekellis was making the most of his moment of glory, as the local man on the scene.

  Julia had made tea and biscuits for so many people she had lost track. She’d come to the cottage for a bit of peace and time to think. Some chance, she thought ruefully kicking at pebbles down on the beach. What had the sergeant said? Initials H.D. on a penknife they’d found? H.D. meant nothing to her. It meant nothing. She could scarcely remember anyone’s name. There were always a few surfers they’d met up with and a crowd down at the local pub.

  She wandered slowly towards the rocks that marked the end of the beach. The wind was rising and she shivered, still resenting that her haven had been ruined by some unknown tramp.

  ‘Julia, isn’t it? Julia Renton?’ The voice was high pitched and inquisitive.

  The girl sighed and turned to face the Misses Annie and Betty Smythe. The two elderly sisters were among the last few permanent residents of Trengillyn and extremely nosy. They would certainly not have missed anything of the goings-on at the cottage living opposite, as they did.

  ‘We were so sorry to hear about your dear mother,’ began Annie.

  ‘Very sorry indeed,’ continued Betty. ‘We were so fond of her … of you all, of course. We’ve …’

  ‘… known you for all your lives.’

  The pair had lived together for so long they had grown into the habit of speaking as one. Julia gave the merest flicker of a smile. The sisters took it as a sign of her acceptance and gratitude for their remarks and nodded encouragingly to her.

  ‘It helps to talk about things sometimes, my dear. You can tell us …’

  ‘… anything you feel the need to.’

  Julia’s slight smile was caused by the memory of her and Ryan impersonating the two old ladies for their mother. Mummy had laughed and told them not to be so wicked.

  ‘Is it true they have found a …’ began Annie.

  ‘… corpse?’ completed Betty.

  ‘Yes. In the outhouse,’ Julia obliged. ‘Some old tramp, they think.’

  ‘I wonder if it was old …’

  ‘… Harry.’ The two spinsters stood in front of Julia, their eyes wide with a mixture of horror and the pleasure of a good piece of gossip.’

  ‘We’ve been saying for ages, these …’

  ‘… vagrants should be found a place to stay. Especially …’

  ‘… in winter. It isn’t safe for them …’

  ‘… or us, to wander around the place.’ She gave a shudder and gripped her sister’s arm more tightly. ‘In fact, we are …’

  ‘… getting up a petition. We want the poor wretched …’

  ‘… people rehoused. Perhaps you and your dear …’

  ‘… brother would be willing to sign?’

  Julia began to feel dizzy trying to keep up with the elderly pair.

  ‘Let us walk you back, my dear. We really …’

  ‘… were so sorry to hear about your poor dear mother.’

  ‘Yes. Thank you,’ Julia replied. There was nothing else to say.

  The two elderly ladies gripped her arms, one each side of her and she felt as if she were being frogmarched. They paused at the gate, peering into the garden and all the activity of the men as they poked under bushes with sticks, evidently looking for clues.

  ‘Would you like …’

  ‘… a cup of tea dear?’ Annie and Betty asked.

  ‘I’ll drown if I drink any more tea. Policemen seem to have unlimited capacity. But thanks all the same. You’re very kind.’

  Julia turned to open the gate and one of the constables stepped forward. Once he recognised her, he waved her through. She turned to say goodbye to the Misses Smythe, but they were agitated. They were obviously communicating to each other, totally wordlessly. After a moment or two, they nodded and spoke to her again. It seemed they only required words to speak to other people. Some form of telepathy existed between them.

  ‘That …’

  ‘… umbrella. Belongs to Harry. Was it …’

  ‘… with the body?’ Their voices were rather more quiet than usual. Obviously, this was a dramatic moment in their lives.

  ‘You recognise it, ma’am?’ asked the young policeman.

  ‘Oh yes. We haven’t …’

  ‘… seen him around for weeks. It’s …’

  ‘… Harry, all right.’

  ‘Harry who? I mean, do you know anything about him?’ He produced his notebook to take their statement.

  Julia sidled away. She felt sick of the whole business. She toyed with idea of driving somewhere, getting right away from this circus. Ryan was brooding inside the cottage.

  ‘Hi, Sis, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should leave here, at least for the time being. I’m sick of people telling me what I can and can’t do. What do you think?’

  ‘I’m thinking the same. But I won’t go home. No way. Shall we find a hotel?’

  ‘I expect the Trengillyn Hotel will have some rooms
at this time of year. I’ll give them a call.’

  ‘I met the Smythe sisters when I was out. They got worse. Neither of them finishes a sentence without the other. God help them if they’re ever parted.’

  ‘Which is the elder?’

  Julia pursed her lips and frowned. ‘I’ve never thought about it. Maybe they are twins. They have identical hairdos … earphones of plaited hair. Always dressed in identical browns.’

  ‘Perhaps the hair is designed to hide personal iPods. Closet groupies of one of the boy bands. Or maybe it’s rap that rocks their boat.’ They both giggled, made slightly hysterical with the added stress. A knock on the door broke the mood. Sergeant Trekellis was nearing the end of a long day.

  ‘Excuse me, but the inspector thinks it might be a good idea if you were to spend the night at the hotel. Although we’ve more or less finished in here, there is still a fair bit to do outside.’

  ‘We’ve reached the same conclusion. This place has lost its appeal. We’ll be at the Trengillyn Hotel if you need us. You might as well have the keys to this place. We’ll move back in when you’ve finished.’ Julia felt suddenly drained of all energy. The thought of someone to look after her and cook supper was very attractive.

  ‘Right, Brother. Let’s get our act together and move out.’

  The sergeant smiled and left them. He was tired but the adrenaline was flowing and he relished his role as the Main Man.

  ‘I wonder if this place will ever be the same again,’ Julia said to her brother later in the evening. They were feeling more relaxed after a meal and a shared bottle of wine.

  ‘We need to make plans for the future. We should see the chap who runs the holiday lets. He has some sort of security setup doesn’t he?’ Ryan suggested. ‘At least we’d know that someone was looking out for the cottage when we leave it.’

  ‘I don’t know where else you intend going. I plan to stay here indefinitely. I’m never going back to live with Dad.’

  ‘You’re very bitter, considering.’