Blood Line (42 page)

Neil gave a soft laugh. ‘Possible? Either he has or he hasn’t.’

‘You think it’s funny? I need to talk to anyone who knew him. I need to find out who else knew him – and if you know
anything
, I suggest you straighten out and tell me what it is.’

‘Straighten out?’

‘Yes. We can either do it here and now, or I will have you taken into the police station for questioning. Now: just how well did you know this man?’ She jabbed the photograph of Alan.

‘Sammy introduced me to him a couple of summers ago. We had a few nights together, but he was an oddball and could get quite nasty and I’m not into that stuff. Also, he was with Sammy Marsh. Whether or not they were an item I couldn’t tell you.’

‘Did you score drugs from him?’

‘Sammy?’

‘Yes, Mr Baggerly.’

‘Few lines of coke – that’s my limit – but he could hoover it up, and didn’t like to get down to it unless he was high.’

‘You are referring to this man you know as Daniel Matthews?’

‘Yeah.’

‘You scored drugs from him?’

‘I didn’t score – he had them with him. I’ve never been with Sammy. He’s not my type and besides, he’s always got a bunch of guys fawning all over him. If I say Dan was a heavy tipper, Sammy used to be so stoned he would drop hundreds. Reason I was never too friendly towards him was because he was well known to throw his weight around. You never knew where you were with Sammy. One minute he was all smiles and the next he’d blank you.’

Neil Baggerly frowned. ‘He never used to be like that – I’m talking about Sammy now. He was always Mr Sharp, but the last few times I saw him here he was well out of it. I kept my distance because the management here are very classy.’

‘Was Daniel Matthews drugged up?’

‘No, he would stick to soft drinks, but like I said, when he was alone with me he’d snort up a few lines.’

‘When you were with him, did you go to his place?’

‘No. I’ve got a room here. Apart from that, the summer is our busy time and I’ve not got a car. On my days off we’d go into Falmouth, but I never went over to Newquay, and he never seemed to want me to go there. In fact, I know he didn’t like Sammy to know he was seeing me.’

‘When was the last time you saw him?’

Neil closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He recollected that it had to have been seven or eight months ago.

‘He came in alone for some lunch and I told him that I wouldn’t be off-duty for the afternoon and that I was also working that night. He said that he was not going to be around as he was heading back to London. Oh yeah . . .’ Neil clicked his fingers. ‘Another thing, we always have all the newspapers, local as well as the London ones, and I gave him one to read because he was sitting by himself. It was the local one – about that girl they’d found dead, washed up on the beach. The coroner’s report said that it was a heroin OD. Front page, it was.’

Anna waited as Neil licked his lips, frowning.

‘I brought him some iced water and I said to him, joking, I said, nodding to the paper, that I hoped Sammy wasn’t involved. At that he kind of freaked, rolling up the paper and slapping the table with it. He was really uptight, if you know what I mean.’

She nodded and waited, but Neil just shrugged.

‘That was it. He got up and left without touching his food. When I went out to the back of the hotel to see if he’d really gone or whether he just wanted the lavatory, he was walking out. I asked him if there was something wrong.’

Neil described the odd look on Alan Rawlins’s face, but he’d said nothing else and that was the last time he had seen him.

‘What about Sammy Marsh?’

‘Same day or night, Sammy was here asking if I’d seen Dan. I told him he’d been in for lunch, and Sammy never even waited for me to finish talking. He just pushed past me. Like I said, he was a weirdo.’

‘Did you tell the Cornish police this?’

‘Not about Daniel. They never asked me about him, just wanted to know the last time I’d seen Sammy.’

Anna held up the photograph of Alan Rawlins again.

‘And you are sure that this man is Daniel Matthews?’

Neil laughed crudely. ‘I’d know him anywhere – not that you can see it in this photograph. If you know what I mean.’

Unaware that Anna was driving to the Neve Hotel far beneath him, Paul was coming to the end of his tour of the beaches, as the pilot flew them over Polzeath and Padstow.

‘We’re turning back now,’ Williams said.

Paul was grateful. His stomach felt as if it was lurching up into his mouth thanks to the helicopter constantly swooping low for him to get a good view of the beaches. The wind was picking up, and the single-bladed craft was bouncing as Williams pinpointed where one of the victims had been washed ashore; Constantine Bay, with its dangerous reefs.

‘This beach is avoided by beginners. You get a tidal flow sweeping you onto the rocks and they can cut you to shreds, which is why our victim’s body was so damaged.’

‘How far to go?’ Paul asked plaintively.

‘About twenty minutes. We’ll be coming over Newquay soon.’

Paul closed his eyes and whispered, ‘Thank God.’

Williams smiled at the pilot, as they’d both noticed that Paul’s face was ashen. ‘There’s a sick bag tucked into the back of the seat, should you require it.’

Anna almost had a head-on collision with a tractor as she drove slowly along very narrow lanes, with high hedgerows on either side. The sun had gone and the rain had started. It was light at first, but then it became a deluge and she half-wished that she had taken up Harry Took’s offer to drive. She took the wrong turning over and over again, even though she was following the signs to the hotel. Twice she ended up in a field, through a cart track, and then turning back on herself she checked her map. The SatNav was useless. In fact, she had followed its instruction and that was the reason she had ended up in the fields. Covering her head with the borrowed fleece, she ran across to a farmworker and asked him the way. He laughed as he told her she was almost there and to continue on the narrow road for two miles and she would pass a small village and fishing cove. Three miles beyond that was the beach and cove and the Hotel Neve on the cliffs.

Soaked from just the few minutes of conversation, Anna set off and drove through a small village on a very narrow road with houses huddled on either side. It was impossible for two cars to pass each other and she constantly had to swerve into a tiny gap as a vehicle passed her. Eventually she managed to drive out of the village and she continued as instructed, next passing a cove with a small beach and sheltered by rocks. Hotel Neve was high up above it, with direct views of the cove and ocean.

The rain was still coming down thick and fast and she held the fleece over her head as she hurried from the car park to the hotel entrance, hoping it was not a wasted journey.

The hotel resembled a country house with antique furniture and Persian carpets in a panelled hallway. The reception desk was behind a windowed cubicle where a young girl was working at a computer. Anna waited a moment until the girl looked up.

‘Could you tell me if Craig Sumpter still works here?’

‘Yes, but he’s not on duty right now. Lunch is over and dinner isn’t served until seven.’

‘Where could I find him?’

‘He’s probably in his room. The staff quarters are to the left of the reception as you enter. Do you want me to give him a ring and see if he’s there?’

‘Thank you.’

‘Who shall I say is calling?’

‘DCI Anna Travis.’ She took out her ID and showed it to the girl, who glanced at it and then looked up.

‘Police?’ She rang an internal number, waiting a while before she replaced the phone. ‘Not answering. He might be in the spa by the swimming pool. You want me to call there as well?’

‘No. I tell you what – just point me in the right direction.’

‘Turn right, go to the end of the corridor, then left and it’s signposted.’

‘Thank you.’

Anna moved along the thickly carpeted corridor lined with many sketches and paintings for sale, continuing along a second corridor down some stairs to the indoor pool. It was very warm and an elderly woman with a flowered bathing cap was doing breast-stroke in a very leisurely fashion. The spa and Jacuzzi area was through glass doors, and there was a beauty and hair salon which was closed. Racks of hotel towels were freely available. Pushing open the door to the spa, the smell of chlorine and bleach was overpowering. The Jacuzzi was empty and a slim young man was using a bucket and mop to clean it out.

‘It’s not working today,’ he said pleasantly.

‘Are you Craig Sumpter?’

He nodded. Anna moved closer and showed her ID. He tossed a wet sponge into the bucket.

‘Is there somewhere we can talk?’ she asked.

He hesitated and then gestured towards a sun-lounge with wicker beds, cushions and chairs.

‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’

The sun-lounge was cold. Anna watched as the rain lashed down on the large windows that overlooked the gardens and the cove, and sat staring out at the ocean until Craig came in, running his hand through his blonde hair. He was very slender with narrow shoulders, and he was wearing black trousers that looked as if they’d seen better days. His white shirt was clean and pressed, but it looked too large for him.

‘Is this to do with Sammy Marsh?’ he asked.

‘In a way, yes it is. You knew him?’ Anna asked.

‘Everybody around here knows him, but this wasn’t his type of place. He came here a few times, but not recently – maybe months ago. In fact, it was last summer – in June. He wasn’t staying, just having tea out on the patio.’

Anna nodded.

‘I’ve been asked about him a few times by the police, but that’s basically all I could tell them.’

‘Why do you think they questioned you about Sammy?’

‘I’d been seen with him at the Smugglers café a few times. I worked the bar there when I first came to Cornwall and they said they were questioning everyone about him.’

‘I’m going to show you a photograph of someone else. See if you recognise him.’

She noticed that Craig was nervous. He had an elastic band that had been round his wrist which he was now threading through his fingers and twanging it. He was wearing rundown leather shoes and his foot twitched constantly.

‘How old are you?’

‘Twenty-one. I’m learning the ropes here as I want to get into hotel management.’

‘This man?’ She showed him Alan Rawlins’s photograph. Craig looked at it and then back to Anna.

‘What about him?’

‘Do you know him?’

‘Yes.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Dan Matthews.’

‘When was the last time you saw him?’

‘Why do you want to know?’

‘Because he’s missing and I am trying to trace him.’

‘Has he done something wrong?’

‘Just answer my question, Craig. When was the last time you saw him?’

‘Over six months ago.’

‘Did he come to see you here?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you go to his flat in Newquay?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘Did you have a relationship with him?’

‘Why do you want to know that?’

‘Because we are very concerned for his safety.’

Craig leaned forwards. He had a pretty face with wide blue eyes and a small nose with plump girlish lips.

‘I’m concerned too. He’s not contacted me and . . .’

He blinked back tears, twanging the elastic band.

‘Go on, Craig. It’s very important.’

‘He made me promises and I believed him, but he’s not answered my calls and now he’s not picking up his phone.’

‘His London phone?’

‘No, no, his mobile. I’ve sort of given up.’

‘What promises?’

The tears were very close to the surface and he tossed his head back, sniffing.

‘He said we’d move into a house he’d bought and he said that for my twenty-first he was going to give me a car.’ He wiped his cheek with the flat of his hand. ‘He said he was repairing a Mercedes, a 280SL. He said it would be my birthday present, but . . .’

‘So you had a very strong relationship with him?’

‘I thought so. I really believed him and I told everyone about the car.’

‘When you last saw him, how did he seem to you?’

‘Same as usual. We were going to look at his house, as he said it was almost finished. I’d helped choose some of the fabr ics for his sun-lounge and . . . I can’t believe that he was lying to me.’

‘Did he say he was planning to move to Cornwall on a permanent basis?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did he ever tell you about his life back in London?’

‘Not that much. He was always very cagey about it – I know why.’

‘Why?’

‘He was living with a woman. He said they were just platonic, but he never wanted to talk about her. He said it was awkward and that he didn’t want to stay with her.’

‘He never told you he was engaged to this woman?’

Craig looked shocked and then shook his head.

‘Was he ever nasty to you?’ Anna asked next.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Rough? Knock you around?’

‘Dan?’

‘Yes – did he beat you up at all?’

‘No, never. He was really special. He was my first real relationship and he was always gentle and looked out for me.’

‘Did you ever see him use drugs?’

‘A couple of times he had some ecstasy tabs, but I wouldn’t take them. He also smoked a few joints and I wouldn’t even do that.’

‘Why not?’

Craig turned away. His foot was still twitching and his hands couldn’t stop twanging the elastic band.

‘I’ve had a few problems with my kidneys. When I was a kid it was quite bad so I’ve been on medication. I’m scared to take anything that might make me ill again. I don’t drink either.’

‘You said you were working here to train in hotel management, but if you took up his offer to go and live with him, that would mean losing your job, wouldn’t it?’

‘No. He told me he was coming into some inheritance, a lot of money, and that we could look around to buy a small hotel. I couldn’t believe it when he never wrote to me or texted or phoned. I’ve been in a right state because he promised me, he promised me.’