by Rena George
‘How could you be so stupid?’ He’d yelled.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Loveday had been a good patient. She’d swallowed the sleeping pills Adam had given her the previous night and had slept till daylight. She woke to discover one of those golden September mornings, when the birds decide that maybe summer isn’t quite over yet. She tried to get up, but her body ached. Slowly she raised her shoulders from the bed and swung her legs to the floor.
The worst pain was across her shoulders and neck. She winced, remembering how Abbie had pinned back her arms, forcing her face into the grit. She imagined she could still taste it. Suddenly she was trembling violently. She lifted her chin forcing slow, calming breaths into her lungs. ‘I can do this,’ she told herself, easing off the bed and putting her feet on the floor.
She stood up gingerly, testing her legs. Her movements were stiff and jerky, but at least she could walk. She got to the bathroom and turned on the taps. A good hot soak would make a new woman of her.
She took a soft white towel from the cupboard, and then shrank back in horror as she caught sight of herself in the mirror. There were livid, angry scratches all the way down her right cheek, and bruises under both eyes that were beginning to turn purple. She steadied herself on the side of the bath and felt tears of despair roll down her cheeks.
The sound of the running water brought Loveday to her senses and she got to the taps just in time to prevent the bathwater spilling over. For twenty minutes she soaked in the lavender scented foam, trying not to think about what had happened. But that was impossible. She could see Abbie’s face, contorted with rage and madness. She could feel Sam’s arms around her, hear his voice, gentle and comforting. Then he’d got angry. Why had he got angry?
When she stepped out of the bath she could move more easily. Even her bruised face looked a little more acceptable, but maybe she was just getting used to it. At least she was alive.
There had been a moment out there on the cliffs when she thought she would die. Then the arms had come round her…his arms…and the voice in her hair was tender…caring. Had she imagined that part? But Sam Kitto’s anger had been real enough. He’d called her stupid, told her she shouldn’t have meddled in police business – and then dispatched her home with a woman constable. She wasn’t sure now what had upset her most.
At first, Loveday thought she must be imagining the clink of cups from her kitchen as she emerged from the bathroom wrapped in the white bath towel. But she hadn’t. Cassie was there.
‘They say lots of sweet tea is good for a crisis,’ she called, filling Loveday’s cream ceramic teapot with boiling water from the kettle. ‘How are you today?’ Her eyes were full of sympathy as she came forward to touch her friend’s arm.
Loveday threw out a warning hand. ‘Don’t touch me.’ She attempted a lop-sided smile. ‘Everything hurts.’
Cassie nodded, understanding. ‘Poor love,’ she said, lifting a lock of damp hair from Loveday’s face. ‘You have been through the wars, haven’t you? Well you go off and get dressed and I’ll get the tea going.’
‘I don’t deserve you, Cassie,’ Loveday called from the bedroom as she carefully pulled on her jeans and shrugged into a soft blue sweater. She’d brushed her hair back and quickly platted it in a single long rope. Not glamorous, she reflected as she gazed at her mirror image, but maybe improving?
She was reminded of another time when she was ten and had crashed her bike with a force. Her face had been scratched and bleeding then too. She smiled. Her mother had been there to comfort her – just as Cassie was doing now.
But there had been no comfort from Inspector Sam Kitto. The more Loveday thought about it the more indignant she became. If it hadn’t been for her, the police would still be trying to find Paul Bentine’s killer. She had delivered that killer to them on a plate. But was Sam Kitto grateful? No! In fact, he’d been completely obnoxious.
The mobile phone on her bedside cabinet suddenly burst into life. Loveday reached for it and smiled at the caller ID. ‘My God, Loveday! Are you all right?’ Merrick sounded shocked.
‘I’m fine,’ Loveday assured. ‘Really I am.’
‘Is there anything I can do? I can drive over.’
‘No, really. I’m fine now, Merrick, honestly. Anyway. Cassie’s here, and spoiling me rotten.’
‘Well if you’re sure. But I’ll be over tomorrow, whether I’m invited or not.’
‘Look forward to it,’ Loveday grinned, putting the phone down. A warm feeling was beginning to spread through her. She had such lovely friends.
Cassie was holding a mug of tea out to her when she came back to the kitchen and she sat down gingerly, sipping the comforting drink. ‘I was thinking of going for a wonder along the beach this morning,’ Loveday said.
‘Do you think that’s wise?’ Cassie winced at Loveday’s bruises. ‘You don’t want to frighten the natives.’
‘Oh, thanks a bunch. Do I really look that bad?’
Cassie bit her lip and tipped her head to the side as she studied Loveday’s face. ‘Let’s just say you won’t be winning any bonnie baby competitions this week.’
Later, they walked together to the end of the drive, stopping to watch the rabbits nibbling contentedly on the lawn. It was strangely comforting to see them there. No matter what traumas happened around them, their simple, uncomplicated lives carried on as usual.
The sound of an engine made them look up as small boat, it’s outboard chugging noisily, moved from the pier in the direction of the island. The tide was going out. Soon the causeway would be exposed.
Loveday gave Cassie a backward wave and crossed the road, heading along the seafront.
Cassie turned back up the drive, having already decided the day was too good to waste just pottering around the house. The school was on a half-day holiday. She would pack a few sandwiches and drinks, toss a couple of plastic chairs in the back of the Land Rover, collect Sophie and Leo from school and drive them to St Ives.
As she reached the door the crunch of tyres on the gravel made her spin round. Her hand went up to shade her eyes from the bright sun. ‘Inspector,’ she said stiffly. ‘If you’re looking for Loveday, you’ve just missed her.’
‘I don’t suppose you know where she’s gone?’
Cassie bristled. If what Loveday had told her about this man was right, there was no need for courtesy. ‘Is that any business of yours, Inspector?’ she snapped. ‘Hasn’t Loveday done enough for you?’
Sam’s eyebrows descended into a frown. He’d probably deserved that…and more.
‘Is she OK?’
The man looked genuinely concerned and Cassie relented. ‘She’s fine. She’s a tough girl, our Loveday.’
The shadow of a smile crossed Sam’s face. ‘I know,’ he said, glancing at Loveday’s car in the drive. ‘She hasn’t gone far then?’
Cassie laughed. ‘You’re not a detective for nothing, are you? She’s gone for a walk along the beach.’
Sam cleared his throat and inspected his shoes.
‘You can come in if you like,’ Cassie said.
Half an hour, and two cups of coffee later, Sam was strolling along the seafront, hoping to meet Loveday on her way back.
He felt ridiculously nervous. Apologies didn’t come easily to him, and he suspected that he had quite a lot of apologising to do. He had no idea why he had behaved as he had on the cliff top.
He’d no right to have been so angry with her – annoyed, perhaps. She had, after all, interfered in his investigation, but he had to admit that she had also helped. If it hadn’t been for Loveday, they might not have Geraldine Fielding in custody now. She had eventually confessed to killing Paul Bentine after an extended interview that went on into the wee small hours of the morning.
But Loveday had put herself in danger, and they didn’t exactly encourage members of the public to that. He sighed. He knew that wasn’t the reason why he’d got so angry with her out there on the cliff top. Against his better judgmen
t he had developed feelings for the spirited Miss Ross.
He passed the local hotel and checked his watch. The bar wouldn’t be open yet and he was already swimming in coffee, and besides, if he went inside he might miss her. He sat on a bench in the little garden beside the hotel and watched the water lap away from the causeway to the Mount.
It was a day to be out. He lost count of the people strolling, and in some cases running, on the beach, their trainers making imprints on the damp sand. Tiny wading birds were busily pecking along the tideline. They reminded Sam of the tin toys his grandfather had produced one day from his attic.
From his vantage point he could see a lone figure standing on the beach, also watching the scene. A child kicked a ball, and the figure limped to retrieve it, a long dark rope of hair swinging over her shoulder.
Sam’s heart gave an unexpected lurch. It was her! Just for an instant he thought of leaving. But that was stupid. Cassie knew he was here. She would certainly tell Loveday, and she would add cowardice to what she must already have decided was a long list of his inadequacies.
He headed back towards Loveday’s cottage, knowing that further along the road there were various access points to the beach. That way he could get down to the sand and stroll towards her, without giving the impression that he had been watching her from the hotel garden.
Loveday was deep in thought as she strolled. She was thinking of another beach, near her home on the Black Isle, outside Inverness, where she and her brothers, Hugh, and Brodie, had kicked a ball. Of course, she had been there on sufferance. What self-respecting schoolboy would want to play footie with his sister – no matter how good she was.
‘Always one for the rough and tumble, that’s our Loveday,’ her father had so often said, ruffling her long, streaming dark hair. She wished she was home in Scotland with her family right now.
The irritated cry of a gull rang out overhead and she shielded her eyes to look up and watch it. A family strolled leisurely ahead of her, their little boy kicking his ball across the beach. It rolled towards her and she moved forward, the stiffness making her limp, to retrieve the ball and tossed it back to the laughing child.
She recognised the man immediately and stopped, hands on hips, as he approached.
Sam hadn’t been prepared for the sight of Loveday’s bruised face, and was overcome by a sudden rush of tenderness. His first instinct had been to reach out for her, as he had yesterday on the cliffs. But Loveday misinterpreted his stare and an embarrassed flush crept up her neck. She cradled her face, hiding the bruises from him.
‘Adam says it’s all superficial. I just have to go around for a few days looking like Dracula’s mother till it all heals up.’
‘I’m sorry, Loveday,’ he said, not daring to touch her. ‘I’m so sorry.’
She rubbed her arm. ‘You were a bit rough,’ she said.’ I was only trying to help.’
He swallowed. ‘You could have got yourself killed. In fact you nearly did. You should have left all that to us.’
‘You weren’t there.’ Her shoulders rose in a slow shrug. ‘Besides, I thought I could help Kit.’
The mention of her name brought back the picture of her body down on the rocks and Loveday turned away as she struggled to fight back the threat of more tears. There’d be no crying in front of Inspector Sam Kitto.
‘Look,’ Sam said, screwing his eyes against the bright sun. ‘Do you fancy a drink?’
Loveday shook her head. ‘Can we just walk?’
He nodded and they turned and headed away from the town, where the beach became rockier.
‘Is the Bentine case closed now?’ Loveday asked. The wind had got up and she winced as it tugged at her sleeve.
‘I don’t think you should be out walking like this. You should be at home resting.’
‘I’m not an invalid. Anyway, Adam says exercise will be good for me…stops the joints and muscles stiffening up.’
‘Fine,’ Sam shrugged. ‘And yes, as far as the Bentine murder goes. Geraldine Fielding, which is Abbie Grainger’s real name, eventually confessed late last night.’ He looked at her. ‘Of course, the letter helped.’
Loveday frowned, confused. ‘I don’t understand. Abbie wrote that letter herself. It was all lies.’
Sam smiled. ‘I’m talking about the other letter…the one that was waiting for me when we got back to the station yesterday…the one Kit really did write.’
Loveday stared at him. ‘But I told her that. I told Abbie out on the cliffs that Kit had written to the police confessing everything.’ Her eyes widened. ‘You mean it was actually true.’
Sam nodded, grinning. He pursed his lips as though considering something, then pulled a plastic police evidence bag from his pocket. ‘This is strictly against the rules, but in view of everything that’s happened I think you should see it.’
The bag contained two sheets of hand-written scrawl that had been inserted back to back for easier reading.
‘For Detective Inspector Sam Kitto.
Dear Inspector,
I am writing to you because I don’t know what else to do. She doesn’t let me out of her sight, but she’s sleeping at the moment so I’m taking my chance to write this.
Her name isn’t Abbie by the way, it’s Geraldine Fielding – and I’m Jane Smith - and we met in prison. She’s a lawyer and Bentine fixed it so she would do a stretch in prison and get struck off their legal books. I don’t know how to describe it but she can’t go back to being a lawyer again. She made up things in a court case - fabricating evidence the judge called it - and Bentine found out about it and he shopped her. So that’s why she got put inside. I was there because I killed my husband. I couldn’t take the beatings any longer, you see, so I took a knife to him. Paul Bentine was my lawyer and he told me I had to plead guilty to murder. He said the courts would be lenient, but they weren’t, and I got sent down. So you see, Geraldine and I both had reasons to hate Bentine.
‘At the time I couldn’t understand how somebody like her would want to pal around with me. I mean, look at us. She’s so full of herself, smart dresser, big ideas – and me – well, I’m just me. I know you must think I’m pretty dim, but I really didn’t see where it was all leading.
Anyway, we both got out of prison around the same time and Geraldine took this flat in London. She’s got money. She’d been checking up on Bentine and discovered he had moved from Cambridge to Cornwall, so she tracked him down…watched his house and everything. She worked out a way we could get even. It was all planned. We would make him suffer, as he had made us suffer. That’s all it was to be. We would put the frighteners on him. At least that’s all I thought we were going to do.
‘It was easy for her to work something out. I think she enjoyed it. She knows Cornwall, you see. She used to come down here for her holidays. And later, when she was grown up, she used to sail around these parts. She knows all about boats, Geraldine. She used to be in some sailing club in Southampton – that’s where she comes from – a housing estate in Southampton. She doesn’t know I know that. She likes people to think she is posh. But her mum told me when she came to visit one day.’
Loveday shook her head in disbelieve as she read on.
‘She found out where Bentine lived and we went to his house. Geraldine drugged him and we put him in the boot of her car then drove to a little cove where she kept the boat she’d hired. She’d even hired wet suits and we changed into them so we couldn’t be recognised if anyone saw us. She had it all worked out. When Bentine came round she produced a gun. Believe me, inspector, I had no idea she had a gun.
‘ It was dark by then and we all got into the boat. Bentine thought it was a windup and that Geraldine would release him, but she didn’t. When we reached the cove she threatened to shoot him if he didn’t do as he was told. He’d begun to get frightened. I was told to tie him down to the beach with some rope and pegs she had brought. I thought we would go off and then come back again when he was good and scared. I now know that
it had been Geraldine’s intention all along to kill him.
‘Loveday Ross might have guessed by now we only made friends with her because she was a journalist. Geraldine said she would be in a good position to get feed back from the police about how their investigation was going. I just wanted to get away from Cornwall, but Geraldine said we had to stay on. She said we had to make sure we weren’t suspects. She’s obsessed with it.
‘That’s why she destroyed that picture in the museum at Truro – Oh yes, that was her.’
Loveday’s eyes widened. So Lawrence had been right after all. She looked up at Sam, and he nodded. She read on.
‘Geraldine had got it into her head that it was her in the picture. There was a blob, a splash of paint, but she insisted it was her and that she could be identified by it just because she’d been out there on the cliffs checking out the area. Even if it was her, which I’m sure it wasn’t. Nobody could have possibly recognised her. But she was paranoid about it. So we went back the next day. She even made me carry the can of spray paint in my bag.’
‘I feel better for writing this. It’s a comfort to me that somebody else now knows what we did…what she did. Geraldine needs to be stopped. I truly believe she is mad.
‘I’m leaving this letter with the pub landlord and trusting that he will post it to you, as he has promised.
Jane.
‘So she really did mean to kill him,’ Loveday said, flatly, as she handed the letter back to him.
Sam nodded. ‘No doubt about it.’ He took a deep breath and shook his head. ‘You were right about that, too. Apparently she knew the history of that old pub we met up in. The idea of condemning Paul Bentine to a terrifying death appealed to her.
‘Abbie must have been planning this for a long time.’
