A Cornish Revenge (The Loveday Ross Cornish Mysteries Book 1) (12 page)

  ‘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 the 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.’

  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.