Buried in Cornwall (14 page)

‘No.’ He sounded genuinely surprised. ‘I haven’t seen her all week. She said she couldn’t see me until Saturday.’

Jack’s face was expressionless. He was pleased to hear that but also disappointed that she intended seeing Nick again.

‘Have you tried Stella? She goes there sometimes.’

‘Yes.’

Nick shrugged. ‘In that case I can’t help you. I’m sorry, can I offer you something? Coffee or a drink if that’s allowed?’

‘No. I’m fine, thanks.’ Jack turned to leave. ‘If she does get in touch, will you let me know?’ He handed Nick a card.

‘Of course. Oh, God, you don’t think anything’s happened to
her
now, do you?’

‘I hope not, Mr Pascoe. I sincerely hope not.’ Twice in less than half an hour he had been asked that question. Did these people know something? Were they all in it together? Jack had been about to leave. He paused and turned. ‘Do you often have trouble sleeping?’

‘Yes. On and off over the years.’

‘How do you overcome it?’

Nick shrugged. ‘I don’t. I refuse to resort to drugs, I tend to work or read or walk.’

‘And on the night Jennifer Manders died?’

‘I’ve already told you. She came here and we talked, then she left. I can’t tell you any more than that.’ Nick spoke too quickly and Jack could hear the rising panic in his voice. ‘Oh, Christ!’ He sank into a chair, knowing it was useless to dissemble further, his head in his hands. Jack waited. ‘I should’ve told you before. I don’t know why I didn’t. I did go out that night. About twenty minutes after Jenny left. I spoke to Maddy and hearing how upset Jenny was I thought I ought to look for her. Once, I thought I saw her in the distance. I called out but whoever it was too far away to hear. Then I lost sight of her. That was it.’

‘Mr Pascoe, you do realise the seriousness of what you’ve told me? You can be charged with
withholding evidence. May I use your telephone?’

Nick nodded, knowing what must happen next.

Jack requested a car to come and take Nick to Camborne where he would be asked to revise his statement. Pascoe had been drinking and Jack, who could have driven him, was more intent upon finding Rose. ‘You’ll be here when the car comes?’

‘I won’t be running away.’ He laughed cynically. ‘Where would I go?’

If her car’s still here, Jack thought whilst at the same time hoping Pascoe could be trusted, she can’t be far away, but where else was there to look? He left his own car parked near Pascoe’s house and walked down towards West Pier then along The Wharf, stopping to gaze at the water which now filled the harbour and which was perfectly calm and still. Boats swayed imperceptibly on their moorings as the tide began to ebb. Almost opposite him, at the end of Smeaton’s Pier, was the lighthouse.

I’ll walk as far as that, he decided, and then I’ll know what to do next. For the moment his next step was unclear.

A few minutes later he stopped, unable to believe what he was seeing. Walking towards
him, her hair loose and blowing gently around her shoulders, was a small figure in a skirt and top, raincoat open and flapping in time with her footsteps. ‘Rose?’ he whispered. Then ‘Rose!’ he shouted.

Rose stood still and looked up, squinting into the darkness. Jack walked swiftly towards her. ‘My God,’ he said breathlessly. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Oh, I think so. A little shaken, but not hurt. And also extremely puzzled.’

‘About what?’

She shook her head.

‘Can I buy you a drink? Have you eaten?’

‘No. No, I haven’t.’ She had difficulty in remembering,

Controlling an impulse to grab her hand Jack walked beside her, shortening his stride so as not to hurry her. They went into a small pub in Fore Street and joined the other customers. The beams were low and Jack had to duck beneath them. They stood at the curved bar in the over-warm room.

‘You’re pale,’ he said when he had got their drinks. ‘Why don’t we sit down?’

Rose knew he preferred to stand but her legs felt weak so she complied.

‘I think you’d better tell me what’s going on, Rose.’

‘I went to see Maddy Duke. I had arranged to see Stella but I was early so I thought I’d take the opportunity to buy Barry’s present.’ Jack flinched. Last year he had been given one. ‘She invited me upstairs once the shop was closed for lunch. I wanted to talk to her, you see, because I remembered some remarks she made at Stella’s that night. Remarks to Jenny about me and Nick. I had an inkling then that she fancied him herself. It made me wonder whether she was jealous and had somehow rigged those screams at the mine.’

‘But what would she gain from that?’

Rose sniffed. ‘No idea. Perhaps she thought I’d walk towards the sound and fall down the shaft or maybe she simply intended to scare me to put me off painting. Stella once said that Maddy was jealous of anyone with talent. I can’t say I’d noticed, but Stella knows her better. Anyway, before we got a chance to talk she attacked me.’

‘What?’

Rose nodded and ran a tired hand across her forehead. ‘At one point I thought she was going to kill me.’

‘My God.’

‘I’d ruined her plans, you see. With Jenny out
of the way she thought she had a chance with Nick.’

‘I see.’

‘I don’t think you do, Jack. I managed to explain that there was nothing between us. At first I thought that there might be. I was attracted to him but it didn’t take long to discover that apart from the fact that he isn’t really looking for a relationship it wouldn’t have worked.’

‘Why not? If that’s not too personal a question.’

Rose turned to look at him. There was a spot of colour on each of Jack’s cheekbones and he appeared momentarily vulnerable. ‘He would have been too demanding. He’s talented but he’s very moody and he would have expected me to pander to his moods. And that’s not for me, Jack.’

‘As I well know.’

‘I intend telling him at the weekend, face to face.’

As you did with me, Jack thought, then grinned. Poor bastard, he didn’t know what he was in for.

They were quiet for a few minutes, each thinking about what they had shared, Jack hoping it could be rekindled, Rose glad that she still had his friendship. ‘That can’t be all.’ His
tone was brisk now. ‘There must have been more to make her behave in such a way.’

‘There was. When she’d calmed down enough to speak coherently she burst into tears and couldn’t stop apologising. I felt so sorry for her, she was so pathetic and forlorn. I can’t understand how women can get that way about a man who has no interest in them. She’d been to see Nick this morning and he’d turned her away, just as he had Jenny.

‘She’d closed for lunch but after that dramatic scene I thought it better if Sally, that’s the girl who helps her out, came in and took over. She was surprised, for some reason. Anyway, Maddy begged me to stay; she really was in an awful state. We went through the same thing all over again: the tears and apologies. I realised it wasn’t safe to leave her on her own. By then I’d forgotten about Stella and when I did remember it didn’t seem right ringing from there.

‘When she was less emotional she was terribly embarrassed by what she had done and I could see that she wanted to talk. She admitted how lonely she was and how hard she’d tried to be one of the crowd. Oh, Jack, she really is a mess. She told me she had a child when she was young and her parents made her have it adopted.’

‘Made her?’

‘Yes. It’s a complicated story, but they did. For that, she’s never forgiven them or herself. What a way to live, wrapped up in a guilt you can’t share or rid yourself of. Something else was interesting, too.’ Rose rested her chin on her knuckles, her elbows on the table in front of her. ‘I didn’t believe her at first but when I thought about it I saw it was possible and that, without my noticing it, the same thing might have been happening to me. She said Stella’s always putting her down.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘It’s difficult to explain but it’s as if the compliments Stella pays are deliberately backhanded. For instance, in my case she says my painting is good but I’ve still got a lot of hard work to do, and maybe one day I’ll make it, that sort of thing. In Maddy’s case she makes jibes about how surprising it is that so many people want to buy the sort of things she makes for “her little shop” as she puts it. And then she’ll make a point of saying not everyone can be a great artist, as if this is supposed to cheer us both up.’

‘Rose, she might have killed Jenny because she wanted Nick.’

‘I’m sure she didn’t. She admitted there were times she could’ve strangled her, especially when
she told Maddy that she was going to try to get Nick back. And then she said …’

‘Rose?’

Rose sighed with resignation. ‘Then she said she’d seen Nick that night after she’d spoken to him on the phone.’

‘I know.’

‘What?’

‘He told me. He’s at Camborne now.’ I hope, he added silently.

Rose was relieved. She knew it was her duty to inform Jack but it was better that Nick had done so himself. Here goes, she thought. ‘There’s something else.’ She couldn’t meet his eyes. These were her friends. ‘Daniel Wright once told me that Stella always goes for a long walk after an opening night. Not that I’m saying she did,’ Rose added hastily, glancing at his stern expression. ‘It could’ve been an exception.’

The whole bloody lot of them seem to have been wandering around the streets of St Ives, Jack thought gloomily. So it’s back to square one again. ‘Is there anything else you feel I should know?’

Rose recognised the sarcasm but chose to ignore it. ‘Well, yes, actually.’ That’ll teach you, she thought, gaining a brief satisfaction from the
tightening of his jaw. ‘Mind you, I don’t know if it’s relevant. Maddy has a collection of tapes. Ones she’s made herself of her friends’ voices.’

‘What on earth for?’

Rose didn’t answer for a few seconds. She was recalling the action which Maddy had curtailed, one which she now knew would have led to her own voice being recorded. The recorder was well hidden, Maddy only had to bend to flick a switch. Perhaps she sensed how the conversation would go and had thought better of it. ‘She’ll make a good actress, she got my voice off to perfection.’

‘Rose, what’re you talking about? What recordings?’

‘To help her with her acting. Oh, don’t you know?’

‘No. Tell me.’ Jack leant back and folded his arms. Rose Trevelyan was a totally infuriating woman at times.

‘Well, she joined the amateur dramatic company some months ago but she couldn’t get parts because she, to use her own words, always came out sounding like Maddy Duke. She taped other voices and practised copying them.’

‘And?’

‘And she’s got a part in the Christmas pantomime.’

Jack took a sip of his drink. His arm brushed against Rose’s as he replaced his glass. He felt weak. ‘Are you sure that’s the only purpose of the tapes?’ Jack could think of others, such as blackmail or using the recordings of her friends, edited, to cause who knew what mischief by way of a telephone.

‘Mm. I think so. Except, and this is going to sound daft, it crossed my mind that she thinks she might feel more part of things if she had a touch of a Cornish accent.’

Jack shook his head in disbelief. Women’s minds were often incomprehensible to him. He moved in his seat. Rose’s flowery perfume was disturbing him now. However, Maddy Duke sounded like a suitable case for treatment: insanely jealous of everyone, making peculiar tapes, attacking a so-called friend and yearning for a long-lost baby. He sighed. Another suspect back on the list. ‘What time did you leave her?’

‘About an hour before I met you. Maddy went back down to the shop to relieve Sally. She was fine by then. I needed some air. It’d been a damn long afternoon. Jack, what’s bothering you?’

‘You are. Be careful, Rose. Think how much you know already. Whoever killed Jenny might not like it. And a couple of my colleagues are
wondering why you’re taking such an interest.’

‘Oh, you mean they think I’m trying to cover my tracks?’

‘There’s no need for sarcasm, Rose. Most people prefer to distance themselves from crime of any sort.’

‘But I’m not most people, am I, Jack, or you wouldn’t be here now.’

Her comment hurt. ‘Look, have you thought that someone may have been trying to implicate you rather than scare you?’

‘How come?’ This had not occurred to her.

‘You’ve lived here long enough to have been a contemporary of the woman in the shaft. Guilt has strange ways of manifesting itself.’

‘Including auditory hallucinations?’

‘Yes. And returning to the scene of the crime. After that, you become involved with a man who’s given his girlfriend, younger girlfriend, the boot and then you learn she wants him back. It wouldn’t take a genius to set you up for both things.’

‘But you don’t even know who the first woman was.’

‘No. But you might.’

Rose was very worried. Who would want to do that to her, and why? She looked down.
Jack’s hand was resting on her knee but it was a fraternal gesture.

‘Jennifer Manders didn’t lack for companions with whom to share pillow talk. There could be other men we don’t know about, so don’t think we’ve stopped looking.’

Rose knew she ought to voice her suspicions. Why hold back now? ‘It’s possible Jenny had an affair with Daniel Wright.’

‘How do you know?’ he asked quietly.

‘I don’t. It was just an impression I got. Oh, Jack, I really hate all this. These people are my friends.’ She was near to tears.

‘One other thing. I think Stella’s jealous of your talent.’

‘Stella? Don’t be ridiculous.’ But perhaps it was not as ridiculous as it sounded. There were the put-downs which Rose, who was unaware of the strength of her own self-possession, had not noticed until Maddy had pointed them out, and the advice not to go to a certain gallery owner because he charged an extortionate commission. Later Rose had found this to be untrue but assumed Stella had been mistaken. The idea of her friends being guilty was repugnant. She liked them, despite their various flaws, or maybe because of them. She recalled part of
a conversation with Doreen Clarke who had telephoned for a chat recently. Penzance, Newlyn and Hayle were Doreen’s known territories; she had, in her own words, no truck with St Ives people. ‘Different breed, they,’ she had remarked enigmatically. Rose smiled inwardly. To Doreen, anyone not from her own locality might as well have come from a different planet.