Blood Line (37 page)

Langton slammed the door shut. ‘Yeah, all done. Can you take me back to Scotland Yard?’

Brian put the car in gear and drove out of the car park.

‘She’s a piece of work,’ Langton said quietly.

‘You think she’s been telling the truth?’

Langton stared out through the window. ‘Hard to tell. I wouldn’t like to tangle with her. How old do you think she is?’

‘I dunno, I’m not good at guessing women’s ages, but maybe thirty?’

‘Forty-two. I think having to tell me her age made her more tearful than discussing Alan Rawlins’s disappearance.’

‘Bloody hell, she doesn’t look it.’

‘No, she doesn’t, and she didn’t like admitting it, but that doesn’t make her guilty of beating her boyfriend to death.’

‘I know DCI Travis has changed her opinion but do you think Rawlins is still alive?’

Langton sighed and shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Either way, we are going to have to come up with something. A fucking body would be a start.’

H
elen looked over as Brian returned to the incident room, holding up her hand and tapping her watch.

‘Don’t have a go at me,’ he grumbled. ‘I’ve been with bloody Langton all afternoon. Any developments?’

‘No, but I don’t think the Gov liked you and Langton treading on her heels. She wants you to call her and tell her what went down.’

‘Bugger all, that’s what. Have they arrived in Cornwall yet?’

‘Any time now. It’s a long schlepp by train and . . .’ Helen checked her watch again. ‘Too late now, but the manager of the Asda store called re the CCTV.’

‘Shit – I forgot all about that.’

Helen said that Anna had again asked if there was any CCTV footage from the time that Tina bought the containers of bleach. Brian slumped at his desk.

‘What’s so important?’ he said wearily. ‘We have the bloody receipt, so we know the date and time the bleach was bought.’

‘Well, the manager said the interior CCTV
was
working but he’d only be there until six, so you’ve missed him. He said he will give us the hard drive for the CCTV footage we are interested in, but he wants a replacement.’

‘You telling me they have cameras on every checkout till?’

‘I don’t know. You’ll find out when you see the manager.’

Brian yawned and said he would go over there and collect it in the morning.

‘You can get your groceries in at the same time,’ Helen joked. ‘There’ll be a lot to go through so I don’t mind helping you view it.’

‘Okay, whatever. My stomach is playing me up. The ruddy hair salon had this stink of glue for false nails, got right on my chest.’

‘You’d better call the Gov,’ Helen insisted.

‘Although I wasn’t in there that long. Langton was – I didn’t think he was ever coming out and I waited for him outside.’

‘Just call her, will you?’

The train was pulling into their station as Anna received Brian’s call. She listened as she climbed down from the compartment, leaving Paul to carry her overnight bag. By the time she caught up with him he was passing over their tickets to the ticket collector.

‘What did he have to say?’ Paul wanted to know.

‘Not a lot. It seems Langton spent a long time in the hair salon chatting to the girls and eventually Tina.’

As they headed for the station’s exit they could see a plain-clothes officer standing by a patrol car. He was short, overweight and yawning as they approached.

‘This doesn’t bode well for slick detective work,’ Paul muttered.

They introduced themselves and DC Harry Took opened the rear passenger door, but Anna got into the front to sit beside him.

‘I suppose the best way to start is to get you settled in to Mrs Morgan’s,’ the DC began. ‘It’s a nice clean place and she cooks up a good breakfast.’

‘Is it far from the station?’ Anna asked.

‘The train station?’

‘No, the police station.’

‘Oh sorry. No, it’s not far, but it’s after six so I doubt anyone’ll be there. Well, there will obviously be officers working late, but the ones allocated to assist your enquiry expect to get an early start. We reckoned you’d want to have something to eat, and my boss DCI Ed Williams has booked a table for seven-thirty at the Bear. Nice pub and a good menu, all home cooking on the premises.’

Anna thought he would never stop talking as he listed other restaurants that they should try. Eventually he turned into a residential area of three-storey townhouses with small front gardens and stopped outside one which had a
Vacancies
sign in the front window.

‘This is it, ma’am. I’ll be getting off now.’

Paul carried their bags out of the car as Anna tetchily asked how they were to get to the pub to meet DCI Williams. Harry swivelled his bulk round in his seat to point down the road.

‘Right on the corner, fifty yards down.’

The bed and breakfast was spotlessly clean and Paul and Anna had rooms next to each other on the first floor. They didn’t have en-suite bathrooms, but there was a wash-basin in both rooms and a shared bathroom and lavatory on the same floor. Anna quickly unpacked the few things she had brought, hanging them up in the small single wardrobe that had a strong smell of mothballs. She put her underwear into a chest of drawers and laid out the contents of her vanity bag by the sink. She washed her face in cold water, cleaned her teeth, reapplied some make-up and ran a comb through her hair. It was by now almost eight as she tapped on Paul’s door. He opened it up with a bath-towel strung around his waist.

‘Sorry, I had a quick shower. You all ready to leave?’

‘Yes. Knock on my door as soon as you are.’

‘Right. You’re not changing then?’

‘No, Paul, I want to get on with this as soon as possible. We’re not here on a ruddy vacation.’

It took Paul ten minutes before he was dressed, shaved and wearing a pair of jeans, a white T-shirt and a denim jacket. The landlady was a pleasant woman, handing them a key each and asking that if they were to come in late to be as quiet as possible.

‘My husband and I have a room on the ground floor, but you are the only guests. Do you know what time you want breakfast?’

‘Seven-thirty please, Mrs Morgan,’ Anna said, pocketing the key.

‘Will that be a full cooked breakfast or a continental?’

‘Cooked for me,’ Paul said immediately.

Anna asked for just coffee and toast.

‘Have a nice evening.’ Mrs Morgan smiled and then asked if they would like a newspaper.

‘Thank you, but we’ll leave straight after breakfast.’

‘I’ve got you both down for two nights,’ the woman said, her smile fading.

‘Could we discuss this at breakfast?’ Anna was eager to leave.

Mrs Morgan didn’t seem that pleased, watching as they left, closing the door after them. It always annoyed her when guests changed their bookings, but luckily it was early in the season. If it hadn’t been she would have told them straight away that they would have to pay for the two nights booked.

The pub was, as Harry Took had said, just a short walk, but it was colder than either of them had expected and the wind was really sharp.

‘Christ, it’s bloody cold, isn’t it?’ Paul complained, hunching up inside his denim jacket. Anna didn’t reply, but she wished she’d brought a heavier coat. She was wearing her usual white shirt and black suit, and having had only a sandwich on the train, she felt really hungry.

The Bear pub was large with a big car park to the rear and a number of chairs and tables on a deck. The umbrellas were closed as the wind was really whipping up.

Inside, the place was spacious with a main bar, lines of stools and a snooker table to one side. A notice directed them towards a dining room with a big painted neon arrow. There appeared to be only a few local customers drinking, and a large plasma television screen was showing a football match, while two barmen were cleaning glasses and serving up sandwiches and hot dogs to a group of teenagers.

As Anna and Paul made their way to the dining room, all eyes were on them, not antagonistically, more simply out of interest.

The dining room was lined with booths, and four tables with bright red tablecloths were arranged down the centre of the room. Two waitresses were serving a few customers, but apart from them it was empty. Anna and Paul stood in the doorway, waiting to be seated.

‘You see him?’ Paul asked, looking around.

‘Even if I did, I wouldn’t know what he looks like.’

Nobody came to direct them to a table to be seated, although again they were of obvious interest to the diners, who avidly scrutinised them. Then a tall sandy-haired man stood up at the far end of the room and signalled for them to join him before disappearing back into the booth.

As they approached, Ed Williams eased himself out. He was at least six foot four, broad-shouldered, handsome in a rough way, and his thick sandy hair looked as if it was a crew cut growing out. He was wearing a brown tweed suit with a checked shirt and thick tie.

‘DCI Travis?’

‘Yes.’ Anna shook his hand and introduced Paul. They all then slid into the booth. The table was low, making it difficult for someone of Williams’s size to move in and out with ease. He sat opposite them, with his legs taking up so much of the space that he was almost sideways on.

He had a briefcase open on the table and an uncorked bottle of red wine. He had also moved the cutlery aside to be able to take out files and notebooks, but now he quickly replaced everything and snapped the case closed.

A waitress appeared with menus, passing them to Anna and Paul, but not to Williams. He said that he knew the menu backwards and asked if they would like wine. Without really waiting for either to say yes or no he poured for each of them.

‘Cheers.’

The same waitress returned and asked if they would like to know the specials for the evening, and reeled off some Italian pasta, a risotto and sea-food platter, announcing the price of each dish before walking off again. Anna kept herself hidden by the menu, trying to assess Ed Williams as Paul said he was going for the sea-food platter with a chicken and sweetcorn soup to start. Williams nodded for the waitress to take their order, looking to Anna first.

‘The risotto please, no starter.’

Paul gave his order and then Williams asked for his usual: a steak with salad and French fries.

‘Am I the only one having a starter?’ Paul said, embarrassed.

Back came the waitress with a red plastic basket of hot bread covered with a napkin, and a small dish of butter.

Williams offered the bread to Anna, but she shook her head. Paul took a big crispy hot chunk and slathered it with butter. Anna watched as Williams followed suit.

‘You should try this,’ he told her. ‘They bake it on the premises and the butter is garlic and herb.’

‘No, thank you.’

Anna wondered if it was par for the course that officers in Cornwall all had food on their minds.

‘This is really gorgeous and the butter is mindblowing,’ Paul said, slathering on even more.

‘Go on, try some.’ Williams offered Anna the plastic basket again.

‘No, thank you.’

He dropped the basket back onto the red paper tablecloth.

‘I’ve got a car arranged for you,’ he told them. ‘If you want a driver at all times it’s up to you, but I thought maybe you’d like to take off and see—’

‘We’re not here to see the sights,’ she said briskly, not meaning to sound like a school marm.

‘I didn’t think that you were, but sometimes it’s good to get the feel of the place, and you’ve got a lot of areas to cover.’

He had very pale blue eyes and she picked up immediately that he hadn’t liked her interruption.

‘I’ve run off some maps for you. Focus on the main surfing beaches, hang-outs of the surfers, plus their rentals, hotels, hostels and B and Bs. The property you have enquired about is quite a drive from here.’

‘We’ve been told that it is occupied.’

Williams nodded. He drank some wine.

‘I had a covert look over it. There’s a young guy living there who’s about twenty-five and who drives an MG. We ran the licence plates and it’s owned by a local garage so it’s rented to the people at the house – a Mrs Chapman. There have been a couple of women seen going in: one young woman with grocery shopping and the other one a lot older. They are not locals, but we do have a local woman doing cleaning there twice a week.’

‘You’ve spoken to her?’

‘No. My instructions were to not give any indication that we were interested. She also works for another tenant in a property close by, so it is very easy to question her.’

‘Could the guy be Alan Rawlins?’ Paul asked.

‘Well, I’ve seen the email pictures you’ve sent, so decide for yourself.’

He opened his briefcase and took out an envelope, removing some surveillance photographs which he passed to Anna. She looked through them and then shook her head, handing them to Paul for confirmation.

‘Not him.’

‘No.’

‘Because it’s early in the season, a lot of the hang-outs for regular surfers are closed,’ Williams informed them. ‘The all-year-rounders are still present and we’ve had some high waves this year that attracts them. We’ve also had storm warnings, a backlash of the hurricane, which also attracts the real hard professional surfers. They’re all wetsuited up, obviously, but compared to the high season it’s pretty quiet.’

The waitress served Paul his soup in a brown pottery pot with a lid with baked croutons on a separate plate. Williams asked for another bottle of the Beaujolais while he finished the first one, topping up their glasses.

‘I have also arranged for a helicopter to give you an overview of the beaches and areas where your guy would hang out. It’ll be at the airport at nine tomorrow morning.’

‘Helicopter?’ Anna repeated, unable to cover her concern.

‘It’s not going to dent anyone’s budget. It’s a training scheme we have organised with the Drug Squad officers, using dogs, which lets them get used to being up in the air for when there’s a raid. Also, some of the canine team have been training their dogs to get used to the sounds and . . .’ Williams came to a halt and lowered his voice. ‘The reason I’m interested in giving you as much help as possible is because of Sammy Marsh.’