Blood Line (41 page)

Anna shook her head. ‘Not enough. Could I see the surveillance photographs, please?’

Ted Brock passed them to her and she sat with Paul thumbing through them. They were black and white and obviously taken over a quite lengthy period. There were shots of Alan Rawlins heading into Sammy’s block of flats. Another was of him standing at the dock as Sammy was taking off the tarpaulin from his speedboat. Rawlins was wearing dark glasses and a baseball cap pulled low over his face. Two further pictures showed him in the passenger seat of Sammy’s Ferrari, again wearing dark glasses and the same baseball cap. They had included an enlargement of the same picture and ringed in a red felt-tipped pen was Alan Rawlins’s head. It was definitely him, Anna was certain of it. The date was two days before Mrs Flowers had said he called on her.

Anna looked up as Ted Brock listed the known hang-outs for his team to revisit and a slew of names of people that he wanted questioned again.

‘This guy Alan Rawlins could well be connected to the drug-dealing, so we spread the net.’

Anna began to feel as if the carpet was being tugged from beneath her feet. She raised her hand and Brock looked over.

‘You mind if I give a few details about the reason I’m here, because if you do trace him, I want him.’

She stood up.

‘I am here on a murder enquiry that could also involve your man Sammy Marsh.’

She spoke quickly and in brief explained her enquiry to date, describing their inability to get DNA evidence to identify if the blood belonged to Alan Rawlins or whether it was someone else who had been murdered in his London flat. The questions came thick and fast: why had she been unable to acquire the DNA to match with Rawlins, why had Tina Brooks not been arrested, and why had it taken her investigation so long to establish that Rawlins was in Cornwall and involved with Sammy Marsh? She answered every point, but found their manner antagonistic and sarcastic.

‘We have only recently discovered that Rawlins used the names of his friends, Daniel Matthews and Julian Vickers, and we also found no passport and no evidence that he had property in Cornwall. This has taken a lot of time, and we did send an email days ago asking why Sammy Marsh’s DNA wasn’t put on the national database when your force first arrested him.’

‘His mouth swab was rejected due to an administrative error,’ Ted Brock snapped.

‘What you really mean is whoever took the swab didn’t seal it or fill the form out correctly,’ Anna retorted equally sharply. ‘We have a head hair and semen stains from Alan Rawlins’s bedsheet, perhaps you might also get evidence from Sammy Marsh’s bedroom. If he is the victim we can get our Forensic Department to do a comparison. Both men were homosexual and it’s possible the two of them were partners sexually as well as financially. I don’t like the edgy feeling I am getting from all of you that insinuates my team has not been on top of our case – which began, in case you are not aware of it, as one of a reported missing person.’

‘I’d say with blood swamping the guy’s bedroom you would have an f’ing strong clue it was a murder.’

Anna was about to have another terse interaction with Ted Brock when Williams stepped in.

‘That’s enough. We’re wasting time.’

‘But for chrissakes sakes, how can that woman Tina Brooks
not
be involved? It doesn’t make sense,’ Brock protested.

‘We’ve no body,’ Anna said angrily.

‘Well, we’ve got three bodies – of young teenagers. I think we have to take priority if we find this guy Alan Rawlins.’

‘If!’ Anna exclaimed, red-faced. But before she could say any more, Williams’s phone rang. It was the pilot, informing them that the helicopter was standing by and if they wanted to use it, now was the time to do so, as if the weather got any worse they wouldn’t be allowed to lift off.

Anna hurried across to speak to Paul, who had been out of the incident room for most of the arguments.

‘You take off with them. I’m going to do some work here. Nice of you to back me up!’

‘Come on! I left because I got a call from our guys. Helen’s run a check on the Chapman family and they’re clean. The husband has no record and is, as she told us, working for a shipyard. The boyfriend also has no record. The estate agents have given details of a bank deposit transfer to the Cayman Islands. The rent goes direct to the bank – it’s for two and a half thousand a month . . .’

Unseen by either of them, Williams had overheard.

‘Checking up, are you? I could have told you that. We’re trying to get more information regarding the Cayman Island deposit, but it looks like your suspect was taking flight.’ He began to hand over fleece jackets and woollen hats for the helicopter flight.

‘I won’t need them,’ Anna said. ‘I meant to tell you, I hate flying especially in a helicopter so I’ll take up your offer of a car and do some driving around here.’

Williams gave her a long steady gaze and then shrugged. ‘Up to you.’

‘How long will you be?’

‘Hour or so, so we’ll meet up back here. And maybe hang onto the fleece as it’s cold out there.’

As the Drug Squad moved out with Williams and Paul, Anna took a closer look at their incident board. She noticed Harry Took helping himself to more of the coffee and pastries.

‘Could I have you just for a second, Harry?’

‘Sure,’ he said, spitting crumbs out of his mouth as he joined her.

Anna pointed to the names of a couple of hotels. ‘Why these particular hotels?’

Harry explained that Sammy Marsh had frequented one in Falmouth known for its restaurant, and they had also traced an ex-boyfriend there, who worked as a waiter.

‘Is he still working there?’

‘I don’t know. The other one is a small hotel in the Rose peninsula area near Padstow. It’s open all year round, has mostly elderly clients and overlooks a small cove. The body of victim one was washed up there.’

‘You get anything from them?’

‘No, just that we’d missed Sammy by a few days.’

‘Do you know if Alan Rawlins ever used either of these hotels?’

‘Nope, but then we’ve only just got all the information on him.’

Anna jotted down the locations and took a seat at an empty desk to study a map of the area. She checked the time, deciding that finding the hotels would be her starting-point. Picking up the fleece jacket, she was about to head out when Harry asked if she needed him to drive.

‘No thanks, but I need the keys to the vehicle DCI Williams has arranged for me.’

Harry brought her the keys and said the car was parked outside in the station car park.

‘You take care. Some of the roads are very narrow.’

‘I will, thank you, and I’m on my mobile if anyone needs to contact me.’

Meanwhile Paul was seated in the helicopter with Williams, who used the radio-controlled microphone to talk to his guest through the headphones.

‘We’re going to start by flying north and then go south down the coast to Land’s End. You’ll get a good bird’s-eye view of all the beaches and different locations used by Sammy and his henchmen.’

As they left Newquay, Paul’s stomach lurched. Although it was no longer raining there was quite a wind kicking up.

‘As you can see below, the reason why Newquay is a focal point for surfers is because we’ve got beaches facing in all directions. That means there’s a good spread of the different types of surf, for beginners to professionals. We get some really excellent breaks.’

Williams kept up a running commentary, pinpointing the known locations and where two bodies had been washed up. They flew over Sammy’s apartment and Paul could see way below his speedboat bobbing around in the swell.

Anna used the route-finder to drive out of Newquay heading for Falmouth. It was unseasonably cold, but the sun came out and now that she was alone she began to relax. She knew it might be a fruitless drive, but it was possible that the same waiter might also have known Alan Rawlins.

Williams received a text message from Harry Took that he had released a car for DCI Travis, who was driving to Falmouth to the hotels named on the incident board. Williams laughed and turned back to Paul.

‘Your Anna Travis doesn’t like flying? But I can tell you she’s on a wasted trip whereas this would have been beneficial because she would be able to understand the number of locations we’ve had to check out.’

As they headed for Bude, Williams pointed out the various beaches used by the surfers: Duckpool, Sandymouth, Northcott Mouth, Crooklets. They swooped down low over Widemouth Bay, Crackington Haven and Trebarwith Strand. The constant motion as they flew lower with the wind buffeting the helicopter made Paul’s stomach turn.

Falmouth Harbour was very picturesque and a popular tourist attraction. The well-sheltered cove was crowded with fishing boats, advertisements for day-trip excursions and an abundance of fish and chip restaurants. But Anna drove straight through before heading onto narrow lanes towards a hotel built on a clifftop. The Trethanium was a very well-appointed establishment with a large roof-terrace restaurant. There were no spaces available in the front driveway so she had to use their overflow car park across the road.

She left the fleece jacket behind as it was just a short walk across the road to the hotel’s rear entrance, where she found a row of Wellington boots left on shelves for the residents, along with umbrellas and plastic raincoats. She made her way through a corridor towards a small desk beside the entrance to the restaurant. The restaurant was empty so Anna then followed the signs for the bar. There were a few residents sitting on high stools around the small well-equipped bar, and a young girl in a white shirt and black skirt was serving. The room looked out on the spectacular sea views and opened, through two glass doors, onto a large restaurant terrace which was closed as it was out of season.

‘I’m looking for Neil Baggerly,’ Anna said to the barmaid, who checked her watch and suggested he might be in the dining room setting up for lunch.

‘I’ve just come from there,’ Anna told her. ‘The tables are set but nobody is about. Is there anywhere else he might be?’

‘Try the front of the hotel. We are expecting some guests to arrive.’

Anna went to go back the way she had entered when the barmaid told her that the main reception of the hotel was via another corridor. There were arrows pointing to reception, so Anna followed the signs down a staircase and out to the main reception area. This faced wide glassfronted doors opening onto the narrow roadway. There was no one on the desk, but outside Anna could see a young dark-haired man carrying two suitcases from the open boot of a car. The glass doors opened electronically and he headed inside. The elderly couple on the pavement returned to their car to drive it around to the hotel parking lot where Anna had left her car.

‘Excuse me, are you Neil Baggerly?’

He glanced at her as he leaned over the reception desk to remove a room key.

‘You want to make a booking for lunch?’

‘No, I would like to talk to you.’

He straightened, looking at her suspiciously. She came closer and showed her ID, saying, ‘When you have a moment.’

Picking up the suitcases, he gave her a resigned glance and said over his shoulder that he’d be five minutes.

It was more like ten as Anna waited. He eventually returned and took the guestbook to jot down the time of the guests’ arrival. She took the moment to have a really good look at him. He was not very tall, but was very striking in looks, with thick black hair combed back from his chiselled face. He closed the book and tucked the biro back into his top pocket.

‘What do you want?’

‘Is there somewhere we can talk?’ Anna began.

‘I’m on duty so whatever you want to ask me, do it here.’

‘If you want me to air your dirty laundry in public I will.’

‘Listen, I have been questioned over and over again. This is about Sammy Marsh again, isn’t it?’

‘Connected to him, yes.’

‘Well, I’ve told a fat greasy guy everything, and then I’ve repeated it all to a tall, sandy-haired bloke. I haven’t seen Sammy for over eight months. I knew him, yeah. I could get him the best table on the terrace in the summer, yeah, but I don’t have anything more to do with him.’

‘I really think you need to change your attitude . . .’

‘I just
told
you. I’m on duty, we’re short-staffed and I’ve got to man the desk and act as porter.’

Anna again showed her ID, facing him out.

‘I’m not from here. I’ve come from London and this, Mr Baggerly, is a murder enquiry – so you
will
find somewhere for us to talk in private. And
now
, if you please.’

He sulkily picked up the phone and spoke to someone to say he would be in the other bar. He jerked his head for Anna to follow him.

The bar, which was close to the open terrace, was closed. Ungraciously, he pulled out two stools.

‘Thank you.’

He shrugged as Anna placed her briefcase onto the bar and clicked it open, removing the photograph of Alan Rawlins.

‘Do you know this man?’

Neil looked and nodded. ‘Yeah, he used to have lunch here in the summer, but I’ve not seen him either for months, like Sammy.’

‘Sammy Marsh? How well did you know him?’

‘Not well, but like I said, I’ve been asked about him.’

‘What about this man in the photograph?’

‘Last summer, he’d come here for lunch and sometimes dinner.’

‘What was his name?’

‘Daniel Matthews.’

‘Was he alone?’

‘No, he was sometimes with Sammy and sometimes with another guy, or sometimes with four or five people.’

‘How well did you know Daniel Matthews?’

Baggerly sighed and then looked her in the eye. ‘I knew him. He was a heavy tipper so I always made a point of grabbing him as a customer.’

‘You grab anything else?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘This man was homosexual.’

Neil looked away.

‘Are you?’ Anna enquired.

‘That’s my business.’

‘It’s also mine, Mr Baggerly. This man has disappeared, he has been missing for some considerable time and it’s possible he has been murdered.’