Killed in Cornwall (12 page)

‘Thanks.’ Jack took off his jacket and sat on the bench then stared silently out over the bay.

‘Jack, what is it?’ Rose asked when she returned. It was unlike him not to initiate the conversation.

‘Look, I know this won’t go any further, but I’d still like you to promise to keep what I’m about to tell you to yourself.’

‘Of course I will. You have my word.’

‘It looks like Dave Fox is in the clear.’

‘I’m so glad.’

‘But the thing is, we’ve still got no other suspects.’

Rose didn’t know what to say. She just hoped her interference hadn’t destroyed the relationship between Dave and Eva even if it had helped to prove his innocence.

‘There’s something else. God, Rose, I really wish you lived in isolation at times.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Rod Hill, that’s what it means. How come you know the only two men we’ve had the slightest reason to suspect?’

‘Because, as you well know, Jack this is a very small community and I do not live in isolation. I needed a gardener, Doreen recommended Dave, and, I hope you remember, it was Barry who introduced me to the Hills. Go and vent your temper on him for a change. Anyway, what about Rod Hill?’

‘I apologise. I just don’t know what to think any more. I’m so bloody tired.’ He ran a hand through his thick springy hair and sighed. ‘Rod Hill has a past. Okay, any charges were dropped but the girl was fifteen. And you, Rose, knew that.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I spoke to the Hills. Daphne said she confided
in Barry and he, in turn, told you, and you were also both at the house one evening. Barry admitted that much.’

‘You’ve spoken to Barry?’

‘Well, don’t sound so surprised. I’ve got to speak to anyone and everyone connected with this.’

‘And?’

‘And Rod Hill can’t recall where he was on the last two occasions, only that he was at the pub on the Sunday night of the first rape. We’re now questioning witnesses.’

Poor Rod and Daphne. It will all start again for them, she thought. But Rose understood how Jack must feel, his anger wasn’t really personal. But ought she to mention her suspicions regarding Lucy? No, that could wait. She’d have a word with Laura first. ‘Stay for supper, Jack. Don’t go back to your empty flat.’ She took his hand but he did not respond.

He sighed again and tried to smile. ‘Thanks. I couldn’t face cooking tonight and I’ve eaten too many takeaways recently.’

‘You sit there and have another drink while I see to the food.’

Through the kitchen window she could see him sitting without drinking, gazing across at
St Michael’s Mount although it was doubtful he was actually seeing it. He’s really worried, she thought, and I don’t think anything I can do will make the slightest difference.

But Rose was wrong. After they’d eaten and taken their coffee into the sitting-room he began to discuss his worries. The feeling was the same amongst all his colleagues, they suspected they might never find Nichola Rolland’s killer. ‘It’s the frustration,’ he repeated, ‘it makes it so much harder to concentrate on anything else. And I keep thinking there must be something vital we’ve overlooked.’

Rose had no answer to that. All she could do was to pour him more coffee and listen. Her own concerns seemed unimportant in contrast. She kept them to herself.

‘Stay the night,’ she said later, hating to see him so dejected.

Jack nodded and followed her upstairs. In bed he lay with his arm curled around her and finally fell asleep. Rose smiled before falling asleep herself. They had not made love but it didn’t matter. Something had changed in their relationship. For once she had been the one to offer comfort and Jack had accepted it. And she was glad they hadn’t made love, she still felt guilty
about Tony, guilty and ashamed. It had been an unintentional one-night stand on her part, but Tony must have felt the same because, despite what he’d said, he hadn’t rung her after all.

Jack left early without waking Rose. She opened her eyes surprised to see his side of the bed empty. Downstairs she found a short note thanking her for the meal and the bed. He had left by the front door which locked itself on the latch when closed.
I’ll ring you
, the note concluded, followed by his name and a kiss.

Rose took herself down to the beach to complete her view of Newlyn. Friday. The start of the weekend and it promised to be hot. There were more people around now and it was difficult not to be distracted by those who stopped to watch her work. Needing a break she lay down, shielded her eyes from the sun with her forearm and half dozed as she listened to the cries of the gulls and the muted sound of voices as people walked along the path above her.

When she stood she felt dizzy from the heat. The oils had dried. Rose stepped back. Yes, it was good. She would see if Geoff Carter was willing to display it in his gallery.

As she was almost passing Laura’s house Rose
rang the bell hoping for a cup of tea and some gossip before she went home.

‘You’re in luck, I’ve just made a pot. I’ve been sitting on the back step soaking up the sun.’

‘I can tell. Your face is red.’

‘Come and join me.’

Rose did so. It was very warm but the sun’s rays were no longer penetrating the narrow alley at the back of Laura’s house. ‘I wanted to ask you about Jason, Lucy’s boyfriend. Do you know him?’

‘No. Never met him. Why?’

‘He’s unemployed, isn’t he?’

‘I believe so.’

‘Then how can he afford to give Lucy expensive presents? Did you see that watch she was wearing?’

Laura shrugged her thin shoulders. ‘Don’t ask me. Perhaps his parents help him out.’

‘Maybe. And another thing, Gwen seemed keen to meet him yet Sam told me she didn’t approve of Lucy seeing him on the quiet.’

‘Honestly, Rose, you see mysteries everywhere.’

‘Well, think about it. If it isn’t a mystery someone is lying and I can’t believe it’s Gwen.’

‘If you think Jason’s guilty of something tell Jack. You drive us all nuts at times, Rose
Trevelyan. Now, are you staying for supper or going home to sulk?’

Rose grinned. Laura always managed to put things back in perspective. ‘Going home. I’m too old for all this socialising.’ She felt herself blush. It was not Cyril’s birthday or Barry mentioning a party which came into her mind, but the evening she had spent with Tony.

Laura raised an eyebrow. ‘Tell me his name?’

‘What?’

‘You heard me. There’s a man involved, I can see by your face.’

‘Don’t ever tell a soul,’ Rose said when she had finished her confession. ‘Especially not Jack.’

‘There you are, I was right.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You care about Jack far more than you think, that’s why you don’t want to hurt him. Anyway, you can trust Aunty Laura. Run along home now and indulge your guilt. I’ll see you soon.’ Rose stopped at the Co-op to buy some wine to take to Doreen’s then, crossing the road, she went into the newsagent’s to buy a card for Cyril. She had already decided to give him a small watercolour of the Hayle estuary she had painted more for pleasure than commercial reasons.

She was rummaging in a kitchen drawer for
a biro with which to sign Cyril’s card when she came across the list she had written on a piece of scrap paper which connected many people she knew. She studied it carefully.

Has Jack looked at it in this way? she wondered. If not, he ought to because there were far too many connections for comfort.

Jason Evans had had plenty of girlfriends, most of whom he tired of quickly. He had been surprised when Lucy Chandler had ditched him, since that was usually his prerogative. He had not known her reasons at the time, had not, in fact, known until the police had picked him up. When they asked where he had been on Sunday evening it became obvious that they were questioning him about the rape he had heard of. He had not been able to help them. He and Lucy had gone for a drive, stopped for a drink and ended up arguing. She’d walked off and left him and he’d left some time afterwards. Only later, when she refused to take or return his calls did he realise that Lucy
might have been the girl they were talking about.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about what had happened to her. Deep down was some illogical belief that nice girls didn’t get raped. Consciously he was aware that this was unfair and ridiculous. After ten days when she still refused to return the messages he left on her mobile phone he put her out of his mind. And now there was Liz.

Liz and another girl had been buying drinks at the bar in a club on Wednesday evening. It was stifling, but in a strappy dress with her long blonde hair loose around her shoulders she had looked cool and in control. Jason and his friend had paid for their drinks.

‘I’m here on holiday,’ Liz had told him. ‘I’m staying with my grandparents. They’re okay,’ she had added seeing the surprise on his face. ‘I come down most summers, so does Kate. We take the same two weeks off work and the grandparents put us up so that we can afford to go abroad once a year as well.’

Shrewd as well as pretty, Jason thought. He had taken her out for the day on Thursday, grateful that his friend had hit it off with Kate and had made similar arrangements.

‘Don’t your grandparents mind your being out all the time?’ he asked when he took her home.

‘No. They’re happy to see us, of course, but they have different interests and they’re out most of the time themselves when the weather’s good.’

‘Can I see you tomorrow?’

‘Yes, but not until the evening. Kate and I are going shopping in Truro then we’re treating my grandparents to lunch.’

‘You’re all going?’

Liz had smiled. ‘No, I don’t think that would appeal to them. They’re visiting some friends in Redruth and meeting us later. We probably won’t get back until late because they want to stop at a garden centre. We’re going over by train and coming back with them in the car. I’ll meet you at seven-thirty.’

It was a shame. He had hoped to take her back to his bedsit but there was still time – there were another eleven days of her holiday left. Instead, he walked her home.

On Friday morning Dave Fox set off for work. It was going to be a hot day and he wanted to get started early. Mr and Mrs Johnson were a pleasant couple to work for. Throughout the summer he cut their grass and tidied the
flowerbeds
on a fortnightly basis. Every so often he put down lawn weedkiller and trimmed the hedges.
In the late autumn he dug the ground and planted bulbs. The Johnsons left him to it and paid him for however many hours he’d worked without question, even though they were not always present.

They were leaving the bungalow as he arrived. ‘It won’t take long today,’ Dave told them. He’d mow the lawns but the flowers were now so abundant that there was little room to weed between them.

‘Shall I pay you now?’ Mrs Johnson asked.

‘No. Leave it until next time. I might only be an hour.’

They got into their car and drove off. Dave got out the mower and got to work.

He had finished the back and was starting on the front when he heard voices. He had been unaware there was anyone else in the house. He looked up. Two girls in short skirts and summer tops were coming down the path.

‘Hello,’ one of them said.

‘Hello.’ They looked vaguely familiar, he had probably seen them there before.

By the time they had disappeared from sight he had forgotten them.

The work took longer than he had expected or else he had been slower because he was hot.
Just before eleven he packed his tools in the van then sat in the shade to drink the tea in his flask. Things were all right between him and Eva now. He had been shocked when the police had questioned him but he could understand their reasons for doing so. That was now in the past, all he wanted was a future with Eva. He screwed the cup back onto the flask and got up. It was time to leave for his next job.

Rose cursed when the telephone rang but she had rarely been able to let the answering-machine take over if she was in the house. It took several seconds before she recognised the panic-stricken voice gabbling down the line.

‘Calm down, Eva, I can’t understand you.’

‘It’s Dave. The police’ve come for him again. Oh, Rose, I can’t stand it. He didn’t do it, I know he didn’t.’

‘Where are you?’

‘In a phone box.’

‘I mean, shall I pick you up?’ Rose sighed. This was not the quiet evening she had hoped for.

‘Would you? I’ve got nowhere else to turn.’

‘Tell me exactly where you are and stay there. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.’

Within minutes she was on her way and
within twenty minutes Eva was sitting in the passenger seat, pale but calmer. Rose drove to the nearest pub. ‘Come on, you look like you need a drink.’

The village pub was low-ceilinged with original beams and a flagstone floor. It was pleasantly cool after the heat of the day, and seemingly dark but their eyes soon adjusted. Even in July a faint smell of woodsmoke from the unlit fire still lingered. They chose a table inside as the garden was crowded and they didn’t want their conversation to be overheard.

‘What’s this all about, Eva?’

‘I don’t know. Dave got home quite early and we were thinking about walking in to Hayle when the police arrived. They wanted to know where I’d been and I said I’d done some shopping and been at the caravan until they arrived. Then they asked Dave if he’d mind going with them to make a statement. They also said they wanted to take his fingerprints.

‘The thing is, Rose, he was working for the Johnsons this morning.’

‘The Johnsons?’ Rose was confused, the name meant nothing. She had imagined it was to do with the murder.

‘Their bungalow was broken into. They were
out at the time. Dave saw them leave. Then a little while later the girls left.’

‘Which girls, Eva? You’re not making much sense.’

‘One’s the Johnsons’ granddaughter, Liz, the other one is her friend.’

‘So Dave was there on his own.’

‘Yes. He’s worked for them for some time, they wouldn’t have left him on his own if they didn’t trust him.’

‘There’s not much we can do but wait,’ Rose said. ‘Obviously they have to question him if he was left alone at the property.’

‘It’s worse than that. You see, Dave can remember exactly what time he left because he needed to know how long he’d worked so the Johnsons could pay him but an elderly neighbour said she thought she’d heard breaking glass about the time Dave said he’d left.’

Rose sipped the bitter shandy she had ordered because she was driving. It was hard to imagine Dave Fox breaking a window and entering someone’s home, especially the home of people who trusted him. ‘Was much taken?’

‘They didn’t say.’

‘Did they search the van or the caravan?’

‘No.’

‘Well, that’s a hopeful sign.’ Unless they didn’t have time to get a warrant, she realised. ‘These girls, does he know anything about them?’

‘No. Why?’

‘I just wondered. Look, Eva, if they release Dave, get him to speak to the Johnsons. Well, I expect he’ll have to anyway, one way or another. See if he can find out anything about the granddaughter and her friend.’ Rose wondered if the same thought had crossed Jack’s mind but it would not be easy to find out without antagonising him. He was bound to accuse her of fantasising. ‘Let me drive you back. Dave could turn up at any time.’

Rose pulled into a gateway to let Eva out. ‘Where do the Johnsons live?’

Eva told her. It was a Penzance address, although the bungalow was on the outskirts and quite secluded.

‘And that other thing, those girls. I should never have doubted him, Rose. Do you know where he was? He was doing up a place for me. It’s an old barn, not one of your conversions, but really falling down. No roof or windows. He’s used what money he brought from Derbyshire and he lives so simply he was able to buy it outright. There was already planning permission
granted to convert it into living accommodation and that’s what he’d started doing. He didn’t want me to see it until it looked more like a building than a heap of rubble.’

Rose could believe it was the sort of thing Dave would do. ‘Try not to worry,’ she said before she left. Her mind was full of ideas and tomorrow, somehow or other, she would convey them to Jack.

Even though some of his fingerprints had been found on doors and windows of the bungalow, Dave Fox was released. Mr Johnson confirmed that Dave had made minor repairs to the locks and occasionally did inside work if they required it. He had spoken up for Dave, it was Liz who had said that he was alone there after she and Kate had left and along with the shaky evidence of the neighbour it had been enough to cast suspicion on him. Apart from which the name was already familiar to the police and they were aware that there were two teenage girls staying at the bungalow.

‘They didn’t tell me what, if anything, had been taken,’ he told Eva when, white-faced, they sat either side of the tiny table in the caravan and shared a bottle of cider. ‘I can’t believe what’s
happening. As far as I know I’ve never committed a crime in my life. It’s as if someone, or fate, has got it in for me.’

Eva reached for his hand. ‘I should never have doubted you,’ she said. ‘Will you ever be able to forgive me?’

‘Of course. I can see how it must’ve looked but I didn’t want to spoil the surprise.’

‘It’s a lovely surprise, Dave. The next problem is the question of my finding a job.’

‘Keep looking, something’s bound to turn up in the end.’

‘Maybe. But I think I ought to try for office or shop work.’

‘No. Never. Never do anything you don’t want to, Eva, that’s where I went wrong. We’re all right, we’ve enough money to keep us. You’ll know when the right thing comes along. Now let’s cheer up.’

They finished the cider and got into bed. Lying with her arms around him, Eva told Dave she had been to see Rose Trevelyan. ‘I wish I could be like her. She seems so sensible and she’s doing a job she really loves; you can tell by the way she talks about her work. And she can please herself when she works, and all that time spent out of doors, it must be wonderful.’

‘But she probably had some money behind her when she started, Eva. Very few artists make enough to live on. She’s a widow, I expect there were pensions or insurance policies. Please don’t worry, something will turn up.’

Eva sighed. If only she had a talent like that. She was too tired and too relieved to think about it further. She closed her eyes and waited for sleep.

Lucy Chandler had been persuaded to join some friends for a drink on Friday evening. ‘I don’t want to go,’ she told her mother. ‘I know it’s stupid but I keep thinking he’s out there waiting for me.’

Gwen feared the same although it was irrational, unless, of course, Lucy did know who it was. ‘You’ll be with people you know, just make sure you stick with them. And, whatever you do, get a taxi home. And Lucy, don’t you think it’s time you rang Sam?’

Lucy nodded. She felt bad about that but had been too ashamed on two counts to face her. ‘I’ll do it in the morning. She’ll probably be out herself on a Friday night.’

Gwen left it at that. It was enough that Lucy was going out. She had not left the house without
her mother since the awful night of the rape. Gwen had decided that she must return to work on Monday, that things had to seem normal even if they weren’t.

Lucy’s friends had arranged to call for her. There were two of them. Neither questioned her on her absence from work or social events which led her to believe that they must have guessed the truth, and she was grateful for their silence. She was shaking by the time they reached the Longboat, a pub at the bottom of the town. It was crowded and noisy, the music making it hard to be heard. Getting there at all had been an effort and she knew she could not face going on to a club later. But she decided to stick it out for a while.

As they made their way to the end of the bar where there was more space, Lucy saw Jason huddled in a corner with a girl she didn’t know. His arm was across her shoulders, his face was close to hers as he said something. Lucy realised she was not jealous but pleased. Jason Evans was a thing of the past. One of her friends who had known him since schooldays had seen him and went over to say hello.

Rose watched the dusk follow the setting sun over the bay. Lights came on around the coastline
and the large ship anchored in the bay was lit up like a cruise liner. How can such awful things happen in such a beautiful place, she asked herself. And how come so many people I know seem caught up in this nastiness? Dave and Eva, trying to begin a new life, had already had two setbacks. She hoped they would survive them. Rod and Daphne, also trying for a new start, were not being given the chance to leave the past behind them. Perhaps no one could ever escape it. I haven’t, she realised, David will always be a part of me no matter where I go or what I do. He helped to make me what I am.

Feeling slightly melancholy, she put on a CD. Lively trad jazz came loudly through the speakers. She switched on the table lamps and went to pour a glass of wine. Tomorrow was Cyril’s birthday. Rose suddenly remembered that she hadn’t invited anyone to go with her, not that it mattered, she was quite happy to go alone. It wasn’t much after ten, not too late to ring Barry, but there was no answer. She tried Jack’s number. He was at home. ‘I know it’s short notice,’ she began before offering the invitation.