Betrayed in Cornwall (5 page)

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. Would the trip be worth it? Yes, he’d have to go. Something or nothing, he thought as he left the building he’d so recently entered.

The heat in the car was unbearable. The air-cooling system blew ineffectively, wafting warm currents into his face. Jack wound down both front windows, grateful for the breeze created by the motion of the car. Ripples of heat shimmered over the sticky tarmac and made the road undulate in the distance. Sweat ran down Jack’s back and dampened his shirt as he neared his destination. Once he reached Penzance he parked and walked to the café where he knew Douggie would be waiting. His informant was sitting with a cup of something in front of him as he scratched his grizzled head. Douggie had lived in the area all his life and knew every inch of it and many of its inhabitants but, more importantly, he also knew the movements of the ones who were of interest to the police. How no one had tumbled him was a mystery to Jack. What he did
for a living was also a mystery and best not inquired into if he wasn’t to lose one of the best sources of information in the area.

‘How’s things?’

‘You know me, Inspector, plodding along the same as always.’

And one of the best sources of enigmatic replies, Jack thought, smiling because he knew the form the proceedings would take. He may as well get them over with. ‘Can I get you another drink?’

‘Tea, please.’

‘And?’

‘No, nothing to eat. Had a good breakfast. Lovely bit of hog’s pudding and the whole works. An’ it’s too hot for any more food.’ Jack was surprised. Douggie could eat all day long but he still remained unnaturally thin. Beads of sweat shone on his high, domed forehead. He had the look of a scholarly man, which he claimed he was, although there was no suggestion of this in the manner in which he lived.

Jack returned with two cups of tea and placed them on the table, watching as Douggie heaped sugar into his cup. ‘You wanted to see me?’

Douggie grinned. ‘You didn’t come over just to pay for my tea. Well, it’s like this. I overheard a bit of talk in the pub last night. Nothing definite, mind, and I only picked up bits of it, but it sounded as if there might be a boat coming in carrying more than a quota of fish.’

‘I see. And the name of this boat?’

Douggie shrugged. ‘No idea.’

‘Trawler or yacht?’

Douggie shrugged again. ‘Like I said, I didn’t get all of it. They were whispering, see. Now you know fishermen, when they’re talking fish or boats, what they’re saying is no secret. This pair were keeping it quiet.’

‘Fishermen?’

‘Nope. Never seen them before. But one of them, the younger one, looked scared.’

‘Any idea of time?’

‘Well, I heard the word Tuesday, but that could have been
referring to anything. I couldn’t get hold of you last night and I certainly wasn’t going to leave a message.’

‘No, I was busy. Anything else you can recall?’

‘Nope. Just that.’

Jack sipped his cooling tea. Why would anyone discuss such a thing within earshot? He sighed. Probably Douggie had got it all wrong. Still, he would pass on the information and leave it at that. Now and then what Douggie told him had some basis of truth and he had been helpful on several occasions when his information had led to arrests, but this sounded weird. If something big was going on, two strangers would not be stupid enough to discuss it in a local pub.

And if Douggie was right, and it was a big if, why Cornwall? The answer was obvious. There were enough coves and small bays from which a small boat could put out undetected and collect whatever was aboard a trawler before it landed. Jack slipped a note across the table. Douggie pocketed it without looking at it and without thanking him either and went back to scratching his head.

Jack left the café wondering if his informant had head lice.

Traffic had eased and the drive back was more pleasant. Nothing Douggie ever told him could be taken lightly but it was hard to imagine that this particular offering would amount to much. However, it was his duty to inform the relevant agencies: the drugs squad and the Joint Intelligence Cell in Plymouth. He picked up the car phone. And later I’ll speak to Rose, he thought, feeling more optimistic at the idea.

Customs and Excise and the police worked in tandem to form the Joint Intelligence Cell. Although drugs were one of their concerns they were also on the look-out for smuggled tobacco and spirits. But the list of illegal goods was greater than that. There was pornography, clothes and accessories made from endangered species, rare plants and exotic birds, reptiles and animals. Ports and airports were watched and random checks made but the trade still went on. Passengers who made short trips on local airlines were closely watched. Smugglers did not stay out of the country for more than a day or so at a time. The fight went on but the officers involved
knew that even if they had a tip-off and stood arm in arm along the coastline of the three counties they policed a smuggler was just as likely to come in by plane, fly right over their heads and drop the stuff in a field without even having to land. But a tip-off from a police officer of Pearce’s rank certainly had to be taken seriously. They told him they would look out for any vessel unknown to them or behaving suspiciously.

Jack chatted with the operations controller for several minutes then hung up. Only later did he wonder if what he had heard had any bearing on the death of Joe Chynoweth.

For months Rose had anticipated, with pleasure, the opening night of her exhibition, a highlight of her life which had been ahead of her, but she had not anticipated the anticlimax which followed on Saturday morning. One day there’ll be others, she told herself. Maybe even in London. One day. I sound as if I’m young with my whole life still ahead of me, she thought. She pushed back the duvet in its white cotton cover and sat on the edge of the firm mattress.

Well, so what? There’s nothing wrong in thinking that way. My mother and father take that attitude, it’s the reason they’ve retained their youthful outlook and why they don’t place limitations upon their lives. And there’s nothing wrong with ambition either, it gives me a reason to get up in the mornings. She stood and stretched and went to pull back the curtains. The bay shimmered, its surface covered in dancing silver ripples which would be dazzling in an hour’s time. ‘It’s going to be another hot one,’ she said before creeping quietly along the landing to the bathroom in order not to wake her parents. Her effort was in vain. Trying to avoid the creaking board, she stepped straight on to it then the wash-basin cold tap made the awful strangulated noises which emanated from it if it wasn’t turned on full. It was six thirty but Rose had always been an
early riser. Broad daylight flooded the room, bouncing off the original white porcelain suite and making her squint.

Evelyn appeared in her dressing-gown just as Rose was pouring her first cup of coffee of the day. ‘Did I wake you?’

‘No. Your father’s snoring did. Didn’t you hear him?’

‘No.’

‘I told him not to drink brandy after dinner. For some reason it always sets him off. What are the plans for today? Of course, Truro, isn’t it? Do you think I’m getting senile?’

Evelyn was not forgetful, Rose knew she was making conversation rather than saying what was really on her mind. ‘Out with it, Mother, what is it you’re trying not to ask me?’

‘How well you can read me.’

‘I ought to be able to, I’ve known you all my life.’

Evelyn laughed and took a mug from one of the hooks beneath the hanging cupboards. ‘You’re not a Scorpio,’ she said, puzzled, as she read the words beneath the Zodiac sign.

‘No. David was.’

‘Oh, Rose, I’m so sorry, that was thoughtless of me.’ She put it back and took another. It would be awful if she broke it. ‘That young man, Jack. Tell me to mind my own business if you like, but he seemed so right for you. I know I’ve only met him the once, but I just got that feeling.’

‘I thought so too at one time. But we’re better off at a distance.’

‘And there’s poor old Barry still mooning around after you.’

It was Rose’s turn to laugh. ‘Jack’s older than Barry. You called him a young man and then say poor old Barry.’

‘You know what I mean. He’s always got such a hang-dog expression.’

‘It’s just the way he is. He’s okay. He’d never cope with living with someone after all these years. Especially not me. And neither would I,’ she added firmly to stop what she imagined might turn out to be her mother’s match-making attempts. ‘I’m going to get dressed. The bathroom’s free. Shall I take some tea up for Dad?’

‘Good God! Don’t you dare. He’ll start expecting me to do the same.’

They were preparing to leave for Truro when the telephone rang. It was Barry Rowe, inviting them out for Sunday lunch. ‘As you know, I haven’t room here, Rose, but I’d like to treat you and your parents. If you haven’t made other arrangements, that is,’ he added quickly. He did not want Rose to accuse him of monopolising her time, a criticism he accepted as fair.

She accepted the invitation on behalf of them all and thanked him, grateful to have such a friend, one who wanted to enhance her parents’ visit.

‘That’s extremely generous of him, Rose. Can he afford to pay for us all?’

‘Indeed he can,’ she replied indignantly. ‘You don’t know him as I do. He rarely spends anything although I try to encourage him. You’ve only to look at the way he dresses. He won’t throw a thing out until it falls apart. And his flat!’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘So don’t worry about that. It’ll do him good to get out his credit card. I just wish he’d spend more on himself.’

They were ready to leave. Evelyn was closing the downstairs windows when Sarah tapped hesitantly at the kitchen door. Rose took one look at her face and knew that something dreadful had happened. ‘Sarah?’ Gently, she led her to a chair at the kitchen table. Evelyn, who had just walked into the room, saw Rose shake her head and left again quietly.

Sarah’s face was white and there were shadows under her eyes. Her whole body trembled and she seemed unable to speak.

She has come to me after all, Rose was thinking, I did not need to find an excuse to talk to her. But when Sarah spoke Rose saw how wrong she had been. This was something far worse than she had imagined.

‘Joe’s dead,’ she said so quietly that Rose could not believe she had heard correctly.

‘Joe?’ Drowned, Rose thought. Another life lost to the sea. What would this do to Etta who had already buried a husband?

Sarah nodded. ‘Someone found him yesterday morning. The police think he was taking drugs. Oh, Rose, it can’t be true, I
know he wasn’t.’ Tears ran down her face unheeded. Just saying it made it so much more real.

Rose gripped the back of a chair. Not Joe, she thought, just as Etta had done. Not Joe, I don’t believe it. Shock and sorrow gave way to anger. Yesterday evening. Jack Pearce had attended her opening night and not said a word. He knew Etta was her friend. Had Laura and Trevor also known and not told her? Her mouth was dry but there were no words of comfort she could offer because nothing would bring back Sarah’s brother. ‘What on earth made them think that?’ she asked instead.

‘Mum said something about them finding a packet of heroin. He fell. Somewhere not far from here. He slipped down the cliff and broke his neck. Or so they said.’

‘It would have been quick,’ Rose said, hoping this was true. ‘He wouldn’t have felt anything.’ She hated herself for the platitudes which Jack had once told her were all there was to offer in circumstances such as these. She understood him a fraction more in those few seconds. ‘Look, I’ll make us some coffee then we can talk. It helps, you know, even if it doesn’t seem like it at the time. Oh, is Etta on her own?’

‘Yes. She said she needed some time to herself before my grandparents arrive later today.’

‘Does she know where you are?’

‘Yes. Not that she cares.’ More tears came into her eyes.

Rose frowned, sorry for the girl’s distress and her misreading of the situation. Had Etta inadvertently allowed Sarah to think she would have preferred her younger child to have died? ‘What do you mean, Sarah? She cares about you very much.’

‘Not as much as her married boyfriend.’ She stopped and bit her lip but it was too late, the words had been said.

So that’s it, Rose thought. I knew there was something on Etta’s mind. She decided to ignore it for the moment. She spooned coffee into the filter machine and added water. ‘Let’s wait until the coffee’s ready then we’ll talk. Excuse me, Sarah, I won’t be a minute.’

Rose left the room and found her parents standing side by
side in front of the fireplace. They had been looking forward to the trip to Truro, now she would have to disappoint them. But Rose did not know that the shock and misery she felt was clearly visible in her face. Her parents stared at her. ‘Rose? What’s happened?’ Arthur’s eyes narrowed in concern.

‘Mum, Dad, I’m really sorry but I won’t be able to make Truro this morning. Etta’s daughter’s here. Sarah. She came to tell me that her brother’s dead. Oh, heavens, I didn’t mean to cry.’

‘Rose, dear,’ Evelyn said, taking her in her arms. ‘Of course you must cry. Arthur, pour her a drink.’

‘No. No, really, I’m all right,’ she said as she wiped her eyes on her bare forearm. ‘Sarah wants to talk to me. It all sounds a bit odd. Maybe she knows something. Would you mind if I didn’t come with you?’

‘Of course not,’ Arthur said firmly, trying not to show how sad he felt for her. It seemed such a shame that this news had to follow the previous happy and successful night. ‘Come on, love, we’ll take ourselves off and leave them to chat.’

Evelyn picked up her handbag which had been lying on a chair and followed her husband out of the room. They said hello to Sarah on their way through the kitchen but left it at that, feeling it was better to say nothing to the girl as they knew neither her nor her family. Any words other than a simple greeting would have been meaningless coming from strangers.

‘We’ll be back around three,’ Arthur said. ‘I’ll buy your mother some lunch.’ He kissed the top of his daughter’s head.

They heard the car start and reverse down the drive. ‘Are they your parents?’ Sarah asked, her face still tear-stained.

‘Yes.’

‘At least you know they love you.’

‘Now, let’s have that coffee, shall we?’ Rose said, trying to sound businesslike. There were undercurrents in the Chynoweth family she had no idea existed. She wondered if there were any biscuits. She did not eat sweet things but occasionally bought them for guests, and they were supposed to be comforting.
But by the anxious way Sarah was picking at the hem of the baggy T-shirt she wore outside her jeans, it was doubtful she would be able to face food. ‘Sugar?’

‘No, thanks. Just black, please.’

Rose placed the two mugs on the table and cursed silently when the telephone rang again. This time it was Jack Pearce calling to give her the news she had so very recently received. ‘I know, Jack. I’ve just heard. Sarah’s here. She came to tell me. Can we talk later?’ Rose wanted to hear his side of the story, but it would have to wait, Sarah’s needs were more immediate.

‘I don’t know what to do, Rose,’ Sarah said when she returned to the kitchen. ‘I don’t even know if I ought to say anything at all. I can’t speak to Mum, and especially not now.’ She paused, unsure where to begin. ‘It’s about Mark, my boyfriend.’

Rose was not aware she had one and did not think Etta was either. Mother and daughter had something in common because Rose did not think Etta would have told Sarah about the man she was seeing if he was married. So how had Sarah found out?

‘Well, he takes me out and, well …’ Colour came into her face then drained away just as quickly.

‘You’ve had sex with him?’

Sarah nodded, amazed that someone of Rose’s age could say such a thing so easily. ‘Yes. But sometimes I feel he doesn’t like me at all. I thought he might be seeing someone else as well. I – oh, Rose, I tried to follow him.’

Rose had no idea where this was leading or why it should have upset her so much. It was no more than typical teenage insecurity. ‘Go on.’

‘I was supposed to be staying with Amy. Mum doesn’t like her much, or Roz, but she doesn’t stop me seeing them. She can’t, can she? Not after what she’s doing.’ The bitterness was obvious.

Had Joe known about Etta’s affair? Rose wondered. ‘Amy and Roz, they’re friends of yours?’

‘Sort of.’

Sort of friends, sort of boyfriends. How different things are
from the days of my youth, Rose thought before recalling her relationship with Jack. Wasn’t he a sort of boyfriend? ‘But you didn’t stay with Amy?’

‘Oh, yes, I did. I stayed the night with her, but she was meeting someone, a boy, and told her mother she was going to the cinema with me. I made myself scarce until the time the film was supposed to end then I met her and we went back to her house together.’

Rose almost smiled, recalling similar incidents during her own teenage years. Then she remembered Joe and the reason why Sarah was there.

‘Where did you go?’

‘I feel so stupid now. I’d decided to try to follow Mark to see if he was meeting someone else.’ There was another pause, this time longer. ‘I shouldn’t have come. I don’t think I can tell you now. I’m sure it doesn’t matter.’

It matters if she’s gone to all this trouble, Rose realised. It probably matters a great deal. ‘You might feel better if you do. You have my word I won’t mention whatever it is to anyone without your permission.’

Sarah took a deep breath and brushed her long fair hair away from her face. ‘I saw him. Mark. He was with another man. We were on the last Mousehole bus, that’s where Amy lives, in Mousehole. They were just standing there, gazing out to sea. I wasn’t sure it was him at first, it was dark, but when he turned round I knew for certain. I’m not sure if he saw me or not.

‘You see, I’d spent several hours looking for him, I know all the places he goes to in the evenings but he wasn’t at any of them. Then, suddenly, there he was, and he wasn’t with another girl. I was so relieved at the time. Then, yesterday, I realised he must have been very close to the place where Joe fell.’ Some of the tension had left Sarah’s body now that she had voiced her concern.

‘You don’t seriously think Mark had anything to do with it?’

‘Of course not. It was just seeing him there and – well, I don’t know what to say if the police question me.’

‘Just tell them the truth, Sarah. Mark can’t possibly hold that against you.’ Or could he? By the expression on Sarah’s face it
seemed that he might. But maybe that wasn’t it, maybe Sarah did not want the fact that she had been jealous enough to try to follow him to come out, coupled with the deceit she and Amy had employed in telling their respective mothers they were going to the cinema. ‘How old is Mark?’

Sarah’s head came up and she met Rose’s eyes. ‘Why?’ Her mug was empty. Rose got up to refill it. The sun had moved to the south. A broad stream of sunlight slanted over the kitchen floor and turned Sarah’s pale hair into a halo.

‘I just wondered.’ Rose smiled to soften her inquiry and refilled their coffee mugs.

‘He’s twenty-three.’

Not a schoolboy as Rose had imagined, but a man. ‘Have you known him long?’

‘About six years, since I started secondary school with his sister, but we only started going out a few months ago.’

‘Where does he take you?’ Rose had no idea why she was asking these questions, only that something seemed wrong with the relationship.