A Cornish Revenge (The Loveday Ross Cornish Mysteries Book 1)

by Rena George

  ‘I don’t imagine your congregation would be particularly delighted either to know about your …hmm…extra curricular activities.’ Sam’s brows came down. He’d said too much. It was none of his business what this man got up to in his private life, so long as it didn’t hamper his investigation.

  Martin shook his head. ‘Will you tell them?’ But he didn’t wait for an answer. ‘I don’t suppose it matters much now if you do. My career’s finished…maybe even my marriage. I’ve let everybody down.’ He met Sam’s eyes, ‘I’m not proud of myself.’

  Martin’s shoulders slumped. He looked like a broken man, now. Sam felt sorry for him. ‘If this has no bearing on the case,’ he said stiffly. ‘Then what you have told me needn’t go any further. Of course, it’s up to you what you tell your family.’ He stood and extended his hand, indicating the interview was over.

  Martin held his hand in a firm grip. ‘I don’t suppose I could see Magdalene?’

  Sam shook his head.

  ‘But you will let her go now?’ Martin pleaded. ‘She’s done nothing wrong.’

  ‘If the alibi you have just given her checks out then yes, she will be free to go. She was only ever here to answer a few questions.’

  As the man moved to the door, Sam had a sudden thought. ‘Did you know Paul Bentine, by the way?’

  Martin stared at the floor. How could he forget?

  ‘I met him once. It wasn’t pleasant,’ he said. ‘I had called at Trenmere one evening when Mags and I both thought Bentine was to be away on business. But he answered the door himself. Magdalene’s the quick thinking one. She rushed in and said she had asked me call to collect some jumble. Then she disappeared upstairs to throw a few things in a bag.

  Paul and I were left smiling at each other by the front door. He invited me in and we stood sipping sherry and making small talk. He was asking about the jumble sale, when it was and where, that kind of thing - and grinning’.

  He frowned, and looked up at Sam. ‘It was an uncomfortable experience. Then Magdalene came back with some things for me to take away and I finished my sherry and took my leave of them.’

  He grimaced. ‘I can still remember how much I was shaking when I got back outside the house.’

  ‘Do you think he suspected there was something going on between his wife and you?’

  ‘I don’t know. It was all a bit surreal. I kept waiting for him to accuse us, but he didn’t, and then I thought he couldn’t know. He wasn’t the kind of man you would want to get on the wrong side of.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He was vindictive. He treated Magdalene very badly.’

  ‘You mean he was violent towards her?’ Magdalene had given his officers no reason to believe she was an abused wife.

  ‘No, his abuse was more subtle, more psychological. He knew how to twist things to cause the most distress. He was a thoroughly horrible man, Inspector…and I’m not surprised that someone murdered him.’

  When Foyle had left, Sam called Will back into his office and repeated the vicar’s story.

  ‘I’ll get it checked out right away, boss,’ he said. ‘What about Mrs Bentine? Do we let her go?’

  Sam had his back to him and was standing at the window watching the traffic filing onto the roundabout below. ‘Let’s see if she fancies a trip to Falmouth,’ he said.

  The police forensic team had been sent ahead to do their work before Sam and the others went on board. Magdalene sat stiffly in the back of the Mazda that Will had collected from the available vehicles in the station car pool.

  They hadn’t told her of Martin’s visit but they no longer seemed to be treating her as a suspect. She stared disinterestedly at the fields rushing past. They’d told her she was free to go, but asked if she would take them to the boat.

  They’d seemed annoyed she hadn’t mentioned the Blue Lady’s existence. But Magdalene couldn’t see why that was important. What could that possibly have to do with Paul’s murder? It had happened miles away from the marina in Falmouth.

  The big good-looking one had been persuasive when he suggested that she should accompany him and the others to the marina. Magdalene just wanted the whole horrifying nightmare to be over. If taking them to the marina and showing them the Blue Lady would help, then she was happy to do it.

  They avoided the congested, Church Street and Arwenack Street, where most of Falmouth’s shops were situated. The pubs strung out along their long lengths were favoured by the tourists because of their breathtaking views across the harbour to Flushing and the Carrick Roads. Instead, Will took the back road over the top of Falmouth, cutting down to the harbour and marina at the far end.

  Magdalene could now make out the towering mass of two tankers tied up by the quays. A great white cruise ship was alongside another quay, while closer to shore, the masts of yachts bobbed in the marina.

  She directed them to the parking area and led the way along the pontoon. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the detectives looking around them at the boats in the marina…taking in the surrounding display of wealth. She stopped at an end berth and extended a hand towards the vessel bobbing at its mooring rope.

  ‘This is my boat …The Blue Lady,’ she said, but I suppose you already know that.’

  Sam could see movement at the windows and knew that some of the team was still on board.

  It was all Will could do not to release a long, slow whistle. The yacht was beautiful. A sleek hundred grand at least, he estimated. On his wages he probably couldn’t even manage a rowing boat.

  A figure in white overalls emerged to greet them. ‘We’re just about finished, sir. It’s fine to go on board, now.’

  They stood back, allowing Magdalene to step onto the moving deck, which she did with the confidence of a professional sailor. Sam and Will followed, steadying themselves on the handrail. She had reached the open door and was now waiting for them to descend into the cabin.

  The smell of polished mahogany reached them before they had even climbed down. The Blue Lady’s interior was as luxurious as Sam had imagined. He was not a boat person. His experiences of being afloat were limited to one outing on a tiny motorboat, and that had been for his son, Jack’s, benefit. There had been another rather queasy trip on an angling boat during a holiday spent in Scarborough. The fishing had been good that day, Sam remembered – at lease for everybody else on board. He’d spent most of his time hanging over the side. But what did they expect from a course fisherman. Not even the sumptuous surroundings of the Bentine’s yacht could tempt him back to sea…not for a pleasure trip anyway.

  The two forensic officers on board were packing up their equipment and nodded as the others squeezed past them.

  ‘We’ll be off now, sir,’ one of them said, raising an arm as he climbed the steps to the deck.

  ‘Thanks chaps,’ Will called after them.

  Sam had already started to look around. ‘Did your husband keep any of his business papers here, Mrs Bentine?’

  ‘No. Why would he? Paul kept all of that stuff under lock and key at home.’ She threw Sam a look that said, ‘You should know, you’ve been through them all.’

  Sam ignored the intended scold as he caught sight of the desk and made his way to it. ‘Mind if we have a look?’

  Magdalene shrugged. ‘Why not? I have nothing to hide. Look where you want to.’ She reached into a cupboard above a tiny gleaming stainless steel hob and produced a jar of coffee. ‘Want some?’ she asked.

  Both men nodded their approval and Magdalene produced a kettle from another cupboard, filled it over a dinky little sink and set it to boil on a gas flame.

  Will was busy going though cupboards, opening drawers and checking out the space beneath the seating arrangements that he knew could convert into beds. He was fascinated by the ingenuity of the designers who hadn’t wasted one inch of cabin space.

  ‘I could probably help if I knew what you were looking for,’ Magdalene said as they drank their coffee.

 
‘We’re looking to solve your husband’s murder,’ Sam words were blunt. If they actually knew what they were looking for they might stand a better chance of finding it…of finding anything that would help them.

  Will shot him a look of surprise and Sam immediately regretted his sharpness with the woman. He smiled in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. ‘We’re almost finished here.’ He hesitated then went on, ‘Is it possible that your husband could have hidden something on the boat?’

  ‘Like what?’

  Sam shrugged. ‘I don’t know…a file perhaps…maybe a diary? We didn’t find one at the house.’

  Magdalene’s brow creased as she tried to think. ‘I’ve never known Paul to use a diary…well not since we moved to Cornwall…He put all his appointments on his computer, but I suppose he could have had a diary. I don’t see why he would want to keep it here.’ She pursed her lips and glanced around the cabin. ‘You’re right, though. He could be quite secretive…liked to make a mystery of things…a bit paranoid about anyone reading his papers. He wasn’t keen on me finding out about any of his little projects, but he always had some deal or other going on.’

  ‘I thought he was retired?’ Will’s head emerged from his inspection of the loo.

  ‘He didn’t practice law any more, if that’s what you mean…not since we left Cambridge.’

  ‘Why did you leave?’ Sam asked.

  ‘Good question,’ Magdalene said. ‘It just didn’t suit Paul to live there any more. But I’ve already told you all this.’

  ‘Didn’t you have a say in it?’

  ‘Well, my father had died and it didn’t seem to matter much where we lived. It’s true, all my friends were in Cambridge and my business was just beginning to take off. But Paul persuaded me that I didn’t need to lose touch with them.

  ‘Think of all those wealthy new clients you’ll find down there,’ he said. ‘Anyway, he persuaded me to move with him.’ Her eyes had a far away look. ‘Paul was good at that. He had persuasion down to a fine art.’

  She looked around the cabin and smiled, ‘I didn’t need persuading about the sailing down here, it’s great in Cornwall.’ She stretched her arms wide. ‘And I love my boat.’

  An hour later, with coffee mugs washed and stored on their hooks back in the cupboard, Sam was beginning to doubt there had ever been anything to find. Then he had an idea.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Cassie had insisted on Loveday joining the family for supper. ‘Nothing fancy, mind,’ she said, ’just macaroni cheese, but it’s the children’s favourite.’

  ‘Mine too,’ Loveday confessed, as she allowed herself to be drawn into the warm kitchen. ‘But I’ve really only come to tell you about the keys. I don’t want to intrude.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ said Cassie, with a grin that told her it wasn’t negotiable. ‘You’re one of the family now, so get busy in that cutlery drawer and set the table.’

  She could hear the children in the next room and smiled. Judging from the high-pitched squeals and excited laughter, some kind of rough and tumble was going on.

  From time to time, Adam’s voice rose above the others and it was difficult to tell who seemed to be enjoying the rumpus most.

  ‘I know,’ Cassie said, catching Loveday’s amused expression. ‘He’s probably giving them piggybacks. What would his patients think if they could see him now?’

  ‘That he’s a great family man?’

  ‘Great big kid, more like,’ Cassie grinned, ‘…but we all love him.’

  Delicious cheesy aromas filled the kitchen as Loveday put the finishing touches to setting the oversized wooden table where the family ate all their meals.

  ‘What’s the latest on the delectable Inspector Sam, by the way? Have you discovered any more about his marital status?’

  ‘He’s divorced. Merrick told me.’

  Cassie raised an eyebrow. ‘Children?’

  Loveday nodded. ‘A boy and a girl. They live with their mother in Plymouth.’

  ‘And does he still see the kids?’

  ‘Heavens, Cassie, I don’t know. That’s his business, don’t you think?’

  Cassie was lifting the bubbling dish from the oven and placing it carefully in the centre of the table. ‘Don’t get testy. I’m only asking.’

  Loveday sighed. ‘I know, but if you’d seen how furious he was that we were both on the Bentine’s boat and hadn’t bothered to tell them about it…’

  A memory of Sam’s angry brown eyes flitted into her head. Why did she always manage to antagonise him? ‘Oh, and by the way, the police will need your fingerprints.’

  ‘Really?’ Cassie said. ‘How exciting.’

  She lifted the big silver serving spoon and started to dish up the food as she called for the others to come through. Squeals and laughter preceded their arrival and Loveday hugged the children in turn as she shepherded them to the sink to wash their hands.

  ‘Do I get one too?’ Adam teased, his round face flushed from the boisterous games.

  ‘Don’t see why not,’ laughed Loveday, going forward with her arms outstretched.

  ‘OK. One hug’s enough,’ said Cassie, brandishing her spoon.

  ‘I suppose you’ll be wanting one too,’ Adam said teasingly, and pecked his wife’s cheek.

  Loveday thought they were the happiest family she had ever known.

  Clearing away the supper things was a joint affair, with Adam washing, Loveday wiping and Cassie putting away.

  When the chore was done, Adam ushered the children upstairs and the sounds of more noisy squeals and splashing drifted through the open door of the sitting room where the women had settled themselves in front of the fire with replenished wine glasses.

  ‘This is the life,’ said Cassie, stretching luxuriously in the warmth of the room. ‘It’s the time I look forward to most…our respite after all the day’s work.’ She looked at Loveday. ‘What about those keys then?’

  ‘Yes…that’s what I came to tell you.’ Loveday settled herself back into the comfy armchair. ‘I was going to return them on my way into the office, but there was a bit of a hitch. When I got to Magdalene’s road, two police cars were just driving off.’ She paused for effect. ‘…And she was in the back of one of them.’

  Cassie put down her glass and stared at Loveday. ‘You mean they’ve arrested her?’

  ‘Looked very much like it to me.’ Loveday waved her glass in the air. ‘Well, you can imagine, I didn’t know what to do. Honestly Cassie, I was shocked. But she has been behaving a bit suspiciously, don’t you think? Well, for a start, she doesn’t exactly look grief-stricken.’

  Cassie shook her head. ‘I think you’re imagining things, Loveday. Magdalene couldn’t have anything to do with all this, but go on.’

  Loveday took a breath. ‘I pulled in just before the entrance to her drive and sat there for a minute or two. That’s when I noticed this other car. It was parked at the end of the cul-de-sac, and it drove off when I left. I could be wrong, but it looked like the driver had been waiting for the police to go.’

  ‘Nosey neighbour, probably.’ Cassie said.

  ‘Maybe. But the driver was a vicar.’

  Cassie’s eyes were mocking. ‘And that was interesting…because?’

  ‘Well because I just happened to see him again an hour or so later – at the police station.’

  ‘Vicars turn up at times of trouble. That’s their job,’ Cassie pointed out. ‘Magdalene probably called him for support, or something, and he was following them to the police station.’

  ‘So why did it take him an hour to get there? And that’s not all. He passed me in a corridor at the station and that plastic identity thing they make all visitors wear was pinned to his lapel.’

  ‘And you just happened to squint at it as he passed?’

  Loveday gave her an impish grin. ‘I’m not a trained journalist for nothing. Anyway, his name is the Rev Martin Foyle. Do you know him?’

  ‘Know who?’ Adam asked as he walked into t
he room having read the compulsory bedtime story.

  ‘The Rev Martin Foyle. Do you know him, Adam?’ Loveday repeated.

  Adam’s brow creased as he considered this. ‘Sounds familiar,’ he said. ‘If he’s the one I’m thinking of…youngish chap, quite good-looking…he’s got a parish in Truro. Saint…something or other.’

  ‘St Barnabas. I checked.’

  Cassie’s eyebrow rose and Loveday ignored it. ‘The thing is, I think he called Magdalene the day we were there, Cassie…and she couldn’t cancel the call fast enough. But I saw the name that came up on her phone…and it was Martin.’

  ‘Even if it was the same man, what would be wrong with a vicar calling his parishioner?’

  ‘Well, nothing, but why would she want to hide the fact?’

  Cassie met her eyes and a slow smile spread across her face. ‘You’re thinking they were having an affair,’ she said, pointing an accusing finger at Loveday.

  ‘Well it could be, couldn’t it?’ Loveday reasoned. ‘And if they were having a…a thing…then Paul could have found out about it and been blackmailing the Rev.’

  Cassie and Adam stared at her in astonishment and she went on, ‘Well it’s not the kind of thing a vicar should be getting up to, is it? You can understand why he would want to keep something like that quiet. But the point is…’ Loveday was getting into her stride now. ‘It might give Magdalene a reason for wanting to do away with her husband.’

  ‘Whoa there.’ Adam put down the glass he had just filled. ‘That’s a pretty big assumption.’

  ‘Adam’s right, Loveday. You can’t go round accusing people like that.’

  ‘But you do agree that it’s a possibility?’ Loveday registered the look that passed between them and knew they were considering her logic.

  ‘The thing is, I’ve discovered a bit more about Paul Bentine.’ She had a captive audience now and continued. ‘Put it this way. I’m positive that Lawrence didn’t murder him, so I’ve been doing a bit of research. I believe Bentine had been blackmailing people. You see, it’s not so far fetched to think he may have been blackmailing this vicar.’