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

by Rena George

  Cassie, who’d been sitting with her legs tucked under her, wriggled into a more comfortable position in the chair. ‘Have you told your friendly policeman any of this?’

  ‘If you mean DI Kitto, well, no…I’ve -.

  Loveday was interrupted by the trill of her mobile phone and she reached into her bag for it. She didn’t recognise the number, but the voice was familiar enough. ‘Inspector Kitto.’ She made a face at the others. ‘What can I do for you?’ There was a pause while she listened. ‘Cassie? Yes, I’m with her now.’ She handed the phone across, opening her palms in a gesture of ignorance. ‘He wants to speak to you, Cassie.’

  Adam rose to sit on the arm of his wife’s chair and Loveday tried to look as though she was not listening intently as Cassie took the call.

  ‘Ah, Mrs Trevillick.’ Sam’s voice was urgent. ‘I know this might seem a bit irregular, but we could do with your help.

  Cassie nodded, her expression puzzled as she wondered what was coming next. With Loveday’s theories about Magdalene and the Rev Martin Foyle very much in mind, Cassie bristled. If the police imagined she was going to pass on tittle-tattle about Magdalene then they had the wrong woman. But the detective’s next words squashed those concerns.

  ‘We’re here with Mrs Bentine…on her boat -.’

  Astonishment crept into Cassie’s voice. ‘The Blue Lady…but what are you doing there?’

  ‘It’s alright, Cassie.’ Magdalene had come to the phone. ‘The police have this idea that Paul may have hidden something on board, something that could help them find his killer.’

  ‘I don’t understand. How does that concern me?’

  ‘Just a minute. Here’s the inspector. He’ll explain.’ She handed the phone back to Sam as Cassie, Adam and Loveday exchanged bewildered looks.

  He wasted no time in pleasantries. ‘When you were working on the boat, Mrs Trevillick, did you come across anything that struck you as unusual?’

  ‘You mean some sort of hiding place? The work I did on the Blue Lady was purely cosmetic. Inspector, nothing structural.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I would be grateful if you could just think back. Did you, for instance suspect there might be any false panels?’

  ‘You mean secret compartments, false drawers, that kind of thing? Isn’t that all a bit far fetched?’

  She was right. Sam knew he was clutching at straws, but the man had been devious…and Sam had this feeling.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Cassie said, ‘There was something about measurements being out of line, if I remember right. It was to do with the bunks in the forward salon. The sides should have been identical, and we had the fabric cut to that specification. But when it was fitted, one side was out by about four inches. I remember I was annoyed because I was sure they had made a mistake in the cutting, but it wasn’t that at all and we had to re-order the covers.’

  ‘Which side?’ Sam asked curtly.

  ‘It was the right side that was out of line.’

  ‘Thank you Mrs Trevillick, you’ve been very helpful.’ Sam’s voice was steady but he could feel the stab of excitement rising inside him.

  With Magdalene’s permission the two detectives made a detailed examination of the area Cassie had mentioned. They removed the cushions and began to inspect the interior. The floor was screwed down.

  ‘I don’t suppose…’ Sam started hopefully, but Magdalene had anticipated his request.

  ‘You’ll be needing a screwdriver. I’ll fetch the toolkit,’ she said, and disappeared back up the stairs to the deck of the boat. She returned a few minutes later carrying a red canvas pouch.

  Sam hoped the others were not noticing the slight shake of his hands as he unscrewed the floor panel. All three held their breath as he lifted it clear to reveal a black metal security box.

  Magdalene gave a sharp intake of breath and steadied herself. ‘What is it?’ she asked in a whisper.

  ‘Something your husband obviously didn’t want anyone to know about.’ He pulled on a pair of plastic forensic gloves, and then selected two spanners from the toolkit to manoeuvre the box out of its resting place and onto the cabin floor.

  ‘I suppose it’s locked.’ Magdalene said, her voice suddenly shaky.

  Sam nodded. He could see a tiny keyhole. But he suspected it might take more than just a key to release the secrets of this box. However, finding the key would be a start.

  He turned to Magdalene, reluctant to tell her what he must. ‘I’m afraid we will have to impound your boat now, Mrs Bentine.’

  But her look was resigned. She nodded. ‘I understand,’ she said softly.

  Not for the first time in this inquiry Sam found himself admiring this woman’s pluck. She’d lost her husband, even if he was a monster, and found herself in the middle of a murder inquiry – potential suspect even. Her affair with Martin Foyle was surely at an end, and now they were to deprive her of her one remaining pleasure – the Blue Lady.

  ‘We’ll release the boat as soon as we can. I promise,’ he said.

  Magdalene shrugged and gave him a weak smile. ‘I know you will, Inspector.’

  He turned to Will, who was already fishing in his jacket pocket for his mobile. ‘It’s all right boss, I’m on to it,’ he said, punching keys.

  ‘The whole crew, Will,’ Sam instructed. ‘We need everybody back down here. You know what to do. I’ll take Mrs Bentine home.’

  He took the main road through Falmouth this time. The shops were closed now and the streets quiet. The few tourists still about at this time of year had made their way back to their hotels or gone in search of restaurants and cafes for their evening meals. The thought reminded Sam that he had not eaten since breakfast. But food would have to come later.

  As they neared Truro he was remembering a second tiny computer memory stick they’d found in Paul Bentine’s desk drawer. It had been checked, but there were no files or any trace of information ever having been stored on it. Believing it to be a spare, they had simply bagged it, and put it in the evidence box.

  But Sam was now picturing the tiny silver key attached to it. At the time it had been dismissed as of no significance, but now Sam couldn’t wait to get his hands on it again.

  He pulled into Magdalene’s drive and drew up at the front steps. The hall light was on and he nodded towards it. ‘Were you expecting company?’

  Magdalene gave him a stiff-lipped smile. ‘Security light. There’s no-one home.’

  He felt guilty about leaving her alone here and offered to send for a family liaison officer, but she shook her head. ‘No. I’ll be fine. Anyway, I need some time on my own. I’ve a lot of thinking to do.’

  He nodded to her as she got out of the car. ‘I’ll be in touch,’ he called from the open driver’s window as he drove off.

  When he reached the station, Sam headed straight for the Evidence Room. He wanted another look at that computer stick. He was itching to try the key in the lock of Bentine’s box, but something stopped him. Through the evidence bag, his fingers felt a blister in the black lacquered finish. Curious, he turned the box over. It was odd that such an expensive security box would have a blemish. He pressed the blister and a section of the underside slide back, revealing a number pad. So…the key alone would not open this little box of tricks. He pressed the blister again and the panel slide closed, leaving no hint of its existence.

  This was definitely one for Arthur Charlton’s forensic team. He checked his watch and was amazed to see it was seven-twenty – more than twelve hours since he had eaten, and then he’s had only a half slice of toast.

  He checked that the box had been dusted for fingerprints then called for someone to deliver it, along with the key, to the forensics’ lab before punching Charlton’s home number into his phone. He knew it was a big call to expect Charlie, as he was affectionately known to one and all, to turn out at night – even if it was urgent. But this was Charlie, and it wouldn’t be the first time he had put himself out for Sam.

  ‘On a scale
of one to ten…how urgent?’ asked Charlie, when he had signaled Laura to turn down the volume on the television.

  ‘Twelve,’ Sam said.

  ‘OK,’ Charlie sighed. ‘The telly’s rubbish, anyway. I’ll meet you at the lab in,’ he checked his watch ‘…in an hour?’

  ‘Done,’ said Sam. ‘I owe you one.’

  ‘Well, mine’s a pint,’ Charlie said.

  Sam laughed. ‘That’s a deal.’

  Bacon rolls and pasties were the only hot offerings on the canteen menu at that time of night. Sam selected a pasty, and went to the machine to pour himself a mug of what passed for coffee at the Truro station. A couple of uniformed constables were the only other diners and Sam nodded across to them as he bolted down the meal.

  The forensic lab was in an ugly red brick building not far from the station and Charlie’s car was in the car park.

  ‘Sam. How are you doing?’ Charlie raised a hand in greeting as Sam walked in. Charlie was already at his bench examining Bentine’s box. ‘This is a right little Chinese puzzle you’ve given us.’ He pushed his spectacles up his nose. ‘Take a seat,’ he said, indicating the vacant stool. ‘You’re going to like this.’

  Sam slid in next to him and Charlie said ‘How are the family?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Ah. I’ll take that as ‘not fine’ then.’

  Sam shrugged. ‘I’m in Jack’s bad books. We were going fishing last Saturday when all this business down at Borlase kicked off.’

  Charlie shook his head. ‘We never learn to put our families before the job, do we, Sam? And I don’t know why because at the end of they day nothing is more important than family.’

  This was sounding distinctly philosophical for Charlie and he smiled when he caught Sam’s quizzical look. ‘I know, I know. Who am I - twice divorced - to be handing out relationship advice? But this time it will be different.’

  Sam’s eyebrow arched. ‘This time?’

  Charlie’s grin split his face. ‘I’m getting married again in two weeks time, You’re invited.’

  ‘You sly old dog. I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone. Do I know her?’

  ‘Probably. It’s Laura Bennington, over at the museum.’

  ‘Well, the plot thickens,’ said Sam. ‘I was with her a day or two ago when one of that artist, Lawrence Kemp’s, paintings was vandalised. I don’t remember her saying anything about an engagement.’

  ‘It’s all very low key at the moment, and we want to keep it that way until the big day. Anyway, enough of our sublime happiness. This little box you brought in is fascinating. Do you want to know about it?’

  ‘I want to open it.’

  ‘Well, it’s fortunate you didn’t, or you would have destroyed all the evidence inside. Look here,’ he drew Sam closer, demonstrating the sliding panel.

  ‘Yes, I’ve seen that. But how do we get into the box when we don’t know the combination?’

  ‘Don’t worry. We’ve worked that one out, but the point is the combination alone will not open the box, nor will the key. We need to use both together.’ He looked up triumphantly. ‘Now who would have thought of that.’

  Who indeed, thought Sam? Only someone with a very devious mind.

  Charlie turned the key a single ratchet and punched in a series of numbers. ‘There’s more,’ he said raising his hand for Sam to be patient. ‘One more turn.’ The key clicked again and the lid sprang open. Sam stared into an empty box.

  ‘What you’re interested in is down here.’ He reached into a drawer under the bench and produced a thick bundle of papers in a police evidence bag, which he tossed in front of them.

  Sam stared at it. ‘Andrew Charlton. I could kiss you.’

  ‘I’d rather you saved that for the bride,’ said Charlie, moving out of Sam’s range, just in case. ‘The wedding’s at the Truro Register Office, by the way…bring a friend.’

  ‘How soon can I have this stuff?’ Sam asked.

  Charlie expelled air noisily. ‘Give us a chance to check it over, Sam,’ he sighed. ‘How does tomorrow afternoon suit you?’

  ‘I’d prefer the morning?’ Sam’s expression was pleading.

  Charlie locked the papers back in his drawer. ‘I like it when you grovel,’ he said ‘Where are we going for that pint?’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Loveday emerged from the shower, pulled on her white toweling robe and wound another towel around her wet hair. She frowned when she heard the knock on the door. Visitors were definitely not welcome on a Sunday morning. This was the pampering time she had promised herself all week.

  Maybe if she ignored it they would go away. She padded into the front room and peeked from behind the curtain, and then cursed. Abbie Grainger’s green Fiat was parked next to her own car. She had no choice but to let them in. The women looked surprised when she appeared in her dressing gown in the middle of the morning.

  ‘Oh, we’re intruding,’ Abbie said, apologetically. ‘We should have rung first. It’s just that we were visiting St Michael’s Mount - ‘ She turned to indicate it. ‘…And it seemed rude not to call in.’

  Kit looked uncomfortable, and to Loveday’s eyes, decidedly peaky. She said, ‘This is obviously inconvenient. We shouldn’t have landed on you like this. We’ll go.’

  ‘Actually,’ Abbie cut in, ‘There was another reason why we knocked on your door. Kit was feeling a bit faint.’ Kit tried to shush her but Abbie ploughed on. ‘It’s quite a hike up to that castle. It’s knocked all the puff out of her.’ she cast a sympathetic glance at Kit and lowered her voice. ‘She’s a bit shaky on her feet at the moment.’

  ‘I’m still here,’ Kit snapped back, ‘I can hear you.’

  Loveday’s brow creased in concern as she reached out to usher Kit into the cottage. The poor woman did look ill. Loveday was beginning to feel ashamed of her first instinct not to answer the door to them.

  ‘Come through to the kitchen,’ she said, leading the way, and reaching to fill the kettle. ‘It won’t take me a minute to get dressed. Make yourselves at home.’ She went to her room, pulled a pair of jeans from their hanger and was back dressed within two minutes, her long, dark hair brushed back into a damp ponytail.

  Kit was at the sink filling a mug with water. ‘It’s for my pills,’ she explained, ‘I’ll feel better once I’ve taken them.’

  Loveday studied the thin, gaunt face and made a decision. ‘My neighbour is a doctor. I think he should take a quick look at you. I’ll be just a minute she called, heading for the door with the women’s protests ringing in her ears.

  ‘No problem. I’ll just get my bag,’ Adam said, when Cassie repeated Loveday’s request. He appeared in bright yellow t-shirt and jeans and followed her at a brisk pace back to her cottage.

  ‘This is Dr Trevillick,’ Loveday said, ‘I think you should let him check you over, Kit.’

  Kit frowned, and snapped, ‘I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor.’

  ‘Probably not,’ Adam smiled, and Loveday could see why he was such a popular GP. ‘…But since I’m here -?’

  Kit nodded indifferently and Adam lifted her limp wrist and checked her pulse before putting a hand on her forehead.

  ‘You’re hot,’ he said, frowning. ‘I’ll just take your temperature.’

  The others watched in silence as he concluded his brief examination.

  ‘You seem very run down, Miss…I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.

  ‘It’s Kit.’ The voice was flat.

  Adam studied her. ‘Well, Kit. You really should be resting.’

  ‘Quite right,’ Abbie said. ‘We’ll drive back to the hotel and get you off to bed at once.’ She turned to the others. ‘I knew we should never have attempted to climb up there today. It’s been too much for her.’

  ‘I told you. I’m fine,’ Kit raised a hand to quell any further discussion about her health. ‘I’ve taken my pills, and now I’m fine.’

  ‘Pills?’ Adam queried. ‘Can I see them?’

  Ki
t produced a small brown bottle from her bag. ‘I take them for my…nerves.’

  Adam examined the bottle and nodded before giving her an earnest look. ‘I meant what I said about the rest. No more gadding about, not for a few days at least.’

  Loveday had produced four mugs of instant coffee and handed round the milk and sugar.

  ‘My fault. I confess,’ Abbie held up her hands to emphasize her guilt. ‘I wanted us to make the most of our time in Cornwall. Doing the round of sightseeing has been a way of taking our minds off…well, other things.’

  Out of the corner of her eye Loveday saw Kit shudder. It was a reaction to that awful memory that Loveday knew only too well. It had been bad enough for her, but for Kit, who was already struggling to cope with the death of her sister…it must have been a living hell. No wonder the poor woman was strung out.

  The scene at Borlase Cove once more flashed, unbidden, into her own mind. She was standing at the edge again, her hand clamped over her mouth, staring down at the horror below. Abbie was behind her, body stiff as a statue.

  Shock took some people like that. She could see Lawrence, gently leading her away from the edge and back to the others. That’s when Loveday had caught sight of Kit. Her eyes were wide, her expression full of horror. And then she collapsed. But had there been something else there, something Loveday initially missed in the trauma of that awful morning. Had there been fear in Kit Armitage’s eyes?

  Adam’s voice cut into her thoughts.

  ‘Is this your first time in Cornwall, ladies?’

  Both women nodded.

  ‘Not the best introduction to our beautiful county,’ he said.

  ‘That’s why we stayed on,’ Abbie said, quickly. ‘We didn’t want this terrible murder to be our lasting memory of Cornwall.’

  Adam nodded. ‘Good idea,’ he grinned, putting his empty mug on the table. A thought struck him as he made for the door and he turned. ‘Once you’re feeling up to it, Miss…er..Kit, you might try a day’s sailing. All that sea air in your lungs.’ He took a deep breath and Loveday knew he was picturing days out in his own little boat, currently waiting across the road in the sailing club compound for its next outing.