Plotted in Cornwall (8 page)

She ran a hand through the tangle of fair curls. I’ll just turn up, she decided. I won’t write. If they turn me away it’s no more than I deserve. She smiled wanly, aware of her London image. They might not even recognise me, she realised. After all, it had been quite a long time.

Something good had come of it though, she thought. If I hadn’t come here I would never have met Michael. But if he ever discovered the reason she had left she would surely lose him.

Joel Penhaligon was doubly grateful to Rose Trevelyan. His father’s attitude towards him seemed to have changed, although Joel realised he might be seeing him differently now, and therefore his own attitude had also altered.

On Saturday night, prior to meeting some
friends, he sat down to eat with his parents.

‘Did Rose say anything to you on Wednesday evening, about your aunts?’ Roger took a sip of his after-dinner whisky.

‘No, she didn’t, actually. Not that there was much chance. Someone else wanted to speak to her after the class was over. It was strange, her meeting them by chance like that.’

‘Chance? There’s no such thing. Fate, maybe, that’s a different matter. It may even have been deliberate on their part.’

Petra watched the interaction between her husband and son and was glad that the tension between them no longer existed. In fairness, it had mostly been on Joel’s side. Now his future was settled he was much more pleasant to both of them. But it was odd, about Roger’s sisters. She had never found them easy to get on with, especially Wendy, whom Joel resembled physically, but she still missed Miranda who had been like the daughter she had always wanted. Frank Jordan had been nothing more than an arrogant bore.

‘Did Miranda ever hint that things weren’t right at home? You two were very close despite the difference in your ages.’

‘No, she never said a word. Only that she
was sorry to be leaving but as she was going to university anyway it wouldn’t be quite such a blow.’

‘I don’t know. There’s something behind all this, Petra. I mean, especially now with someone trying to track down Frank. I know he owes me money and that he wasn’t as discreet as he might have been when it came to other women, but it makes me wonder if he was involved in something worse. It wouldn’t surprise me.’

‘Only one thing about that man surprises me, and that was putting the house in Louisa’s name.’

‘You have it there. Perhaps he was in more financial trouble than we knew and wanted to ensure he had a roof over his head. If the bailiffs were sent in they couldn’t take it away from her. A wife isn’t responsible for her husband’s debts.’

‘What exactly did Uncle Frank do?’

‘No one is certain, Joel. He had the financial services business but that couldn’t possibly have paid for the lifestyle he led. Shady dealings, I expect. That could explain why solicitors are trying to find him. We’ve all assumed it would be good news, a legacy or something. Perhaps he owes money elsewhere.’

‘I still don’t understand about Miranda, Dad. No matter what Aunt Louisa said, she’d never have gone off with her father.’

‘I know that, son, that’s why I contacted the police in the first place. But she was of age so there wasn’t much they could do about it.

‘When you see Rose on Wednesday ask her to give me a ring.’ She would have seen his sisters again by now but he didn’t want to bother her unduly

Petra poured coffee. ‘Do you really have to go out tonight?’ she asked Joel as she frowned at the window. The bare branches of the trees were bent almost double now and the rain lashed down, noisy and relentless. There would be a mess to clear up in the morning.

‘He’s seventeen, Petra, and it’s Saturday night. Of course he has to go out.’

Joel grinned. He was beginning to understand his father a little better. Once he would have taken the comment as sarcasm, now he realised that it arose from a dry sense of humour.

Inspector Jack Pearce was in an introspective mood, which was unusual. There were no current uncertainties where work was concerned, he got on with the job as best he could with the information available. Women were a different matter. What seemed to be information, a known fact about their character, often turned out to be nothing more than a particular mood. And he couldn’t fathom Rose’s present one or if it was to do with Anna Hicks.

Anna was good-looking, fun to be with and an easy conversationalist but the relationship was only just over a week old. Jack knew better than to believe it would not change.

But he was worried. When he had arrived at Camborne police station that morning he was told that Roger Penhaligon had been on the telephone. ‘I know we went through all this before,’ he had told the officer to whom he had spoken, ‘but it seems solicitors are advertising for my brother-in-law to come
forward. It’s more than a year now and we haven’t heard a word and, more importantly, neither has his daughter, Miranda, contacted us. I really feel this needs looking into more thoroughly.’ There was probably nothing more to it than a family feud or rivalry but alarm bells had rung when he learned that Penhaligon’s last words had been, ‘We know where my sisters are now, thanks to Joel’s art tutor, Rose Trevelyan. She not only teaches my son, she’s painting my sisters’ portraits.’

‘She never said a bloody word,’ Jack muttered. ‘She met me in the pub that night and never mentioned a word of any of this.’ He sighed. Of course she hadn’t. She had said there was something she had wanted to discuss with him but he had dropped his bombshell first and Rose had made an excuse to leave early.

Monday evening had arrived. Jack sat in his ground-floor flat in Morrab Road nursing a small whisky, pen and paper to hand. The road outside ran down to the sea and was lined with sturdy properties, some of which had been converted into premises for professional people. Others catered for bed and breakfast and many of the remaining houses had been divided into flats.

There was certainly something going on in the Jordan/Penhaligon family but it might all be innocent. A week or so ago he could have discussed it with Rose, now he wasn’t certain what his reception would be. It was all very well her saying she wanted friendship but he had seen the expression on her face when he had told her about Anna. He had to admit it had pleased him to recognise it as jealousy.

Without realising it he had been making a list. He looked down and read it.

‘She would be, damn her. She already knows more than we do.’ The second sigh was deeper. He had no option but to speak
to her. Face to face. But if he rang in advance she might come up with an excuse not to see him.

No, he decided, this wasn’t really a case, no crime had been committed. Miranda Jordan had been of age and her mother had been unconcerned, her father had run off with a bimbo and now an ancient relative had left him a few hundred quid, it was as simple as that. But it was still an excuse to see Rose. And if she was taking an active interest there might be something in it. ‘That woman’s curiosity is boundless,’ he said, talking to himself as he often did when alone.

He drove over to Newlyn and pulled into her drive. Rose’s car was there and a dim light showed through the kitchen window. It was the hall light, set on a timer, the one Jack had persuaded her to purchase and he had installed. He rapped on the door, sensing already that Rose wasn’t in. He went home and left a telephone message.

To his surprise and anger she returned none of his calls until Thursday evening. Meanwhile he forgot Frank Jordan and got on with more important matters.

On Wednesday he took Anna to the cinema. She was a little subdued but he did
not know her well enough to ask what was the matter.

Rose promised Joel she would find out what she could from his aunts, although how she was to go about it was beyond her. Bring up marriage, she thought, talk about David and not having children and see how Louisa reacts to that. Joel’s confidence had increased now that he knew where his future lay. He had produced another fine drawing.

Rose worked steadily from Sunday until Wednesday when she packed up early because of her class. The storm had broken by Sunday morning and she had taken advantage of the bright blue sky and gone out to photograph its violent effects. The Zennor painting was near completion and she had sketched in the background to the portrait, outlining the position of the two figures. Soon the really serious part would begin.

Thursday morning dawned dry and sunny. December had arrived but it seemed more like April. Rose set off knowing that she would not be able to remain silent, that she would have to say something to draw the sisters out.

She pulled up outside the house, surprised
to see a second car to the side of it. No one had anticipated her arrival this time, the door remained closed as she approached it. She banged the iron knocker against the wood. There was a shout from inside, two words which she could not make out. The door opened and Louisa, red-faced, appeared. ‘Mrs Trevelyan, my sincere apologies, we tried to reach you at home before you left but we were obviously too late. I expect you carry a mobile phone but we didn’t have the number.

‘Look, this is highly embarrassing, but we’ve changed our minds about the portrait. It’s no reflection upon you, I promise, and, naturally, we’ll settle the whole bill as soon as you send it. I can’t say how sorry we are for wasting your time. Something entirely unexpected has cropped up. I really can’t explain, but that’s the way things must be.’

Rose knew she must look an idiot. She was standing totally still, her hand clutching the strap of her canvas bag, her mouth open. She was unable to find a single thing to say. They know, was all she could think, they know I’m in touch with their brother and his family There is definitely something going on here they don’t want me to find out.

‘Mrs Trevelyan?’

‘Sorry. I’m surprised, that’s all. Everything seemed to be going so well. However, it has to be your decision. I’ll send you a bill, but I can’t possibly charge you the full amount.’

‘I insist. We have put you to so much inconvenience and you might have missed other commissions. I’m sorry we can’t even invite you in for coffee. We’re in a bit of a fix at the moment.’

‘I understand.’ I understand nothing, she thought. Not yet, but I will. ‘It’s all right. I’ll, um, well, I’ll make my way back then.’

‘I can’t thank you enough for the way in which you have taken this. Maybe some other time.’ She paused. ‘Anyway, please invoice us immediately.’

Rose nodded and turned away. Whatever had cropped up must have been very recent for them not to have left a message on the answering-machine last night. And it has to be to do with the daughter or the husband, she realised as she began the drive home. I’ll ring Roger and let him know. He might have heard something himself by now.

At home she got the canvas out of her satchel and stared at it. It really belonged to Louisa and Wendy, they would be paying for it. Later she would decide what to do about it.

At six she dialled the Penhaligons’ number. Roger was at home.

‘This looks more peculiar by the minute. I spoke to the police again this morning, but I don’t think they took me very seriously Damn nuisance. Still, I’m relying on you to dig around a bit. Good job you didn’t leave that canvas there this morning, you’ve got an excuse for one more visit. I hope it’s too big to put in the post.’

‘Yes, it is.’ Rose was thinking, chewing the end of her hair as she did so. It was a childhood habit which had never left her. I’ll do it, she decided. I’ll go back there again. And then another thought struck her. ‘Look, I know an inspector in the D & C Police. Perhaps if I have a word with him?’ She left the question hanging, hoping that he would say it wasn’t worth it. Roger had told her he’d spoken to a constable.

‘Would you? We’d be so grateful. You seem to have done a lot for us already Rose. Joel’s a different boy lately.’

‘I’m glad. I’ll be in touch.’ She rang Jack immediately knowing that if she hesitated she would change her mind.

‘I was beginning to think you’d emigrated,’ he said, trying to make light of her neglect of his calls.

‘Sorry I’ve been a bit busy. Jack, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about. Are you free some time this week?’ Once, she would not have needed to ask, he’d have volunteered to come immediately and therefore his answer surprised her.

‘How about in fifteen minutes? If you’re not busy that is.’ How cagey they were being.

Now that the arrangement was made Rose felt nervous. Have I time to change, to brush my hair and put some make-up on? she wondered. No, I never bothered before unless we were going out or he was coming for dinner. It would appear too obvious if she did so now.

Although until recently he had been a frequent visitor to the house it made her stomach lurch when his large frame was silhouetted in the kitchen window. Rose let him in, glancing quickly at his dark, handsome looks then moving away afraid of the frisson which still existed between them, at least on her side, anyway

‘How’s things?’ Jack was as unsure as his hostess as to how he was supposed to act.

‘I’m not totally sure. Would you like a drink?’

‘Just a small one. I’ve got the car.’

Rose fumbled with the corkscrew. It slid off the plastic seal as she tried to break it with the point. Jack reached out a hand. ‘Here, let me do it.’ His fingers briefly touched hers. She could feel the heat of his body and smell his familiar smell, a mixture of clean cotton and aftershave. The cork slid out smoothly and he poured the wine. ‘Now, what did you want to talk to me about?’ He guessed it would be to do with the phone call Roger Penhaligon had made to the station earlier and that he might actually glean some hard facts. As she spoke he listened carefully his chin resting in the palm of his hand. ‘How much?’ His hand fell into his lap when Rose mentioned the sum of money the sisters had agreed to pay her. ‘God, and you haven’t even finished the portrait.’

‘I know. And I still don’t understand why they commissioned me in the first place. I mean, if they’ve got a problem I could always have gone back another time to complete the work.’

‘This other car, did you notice the registration number?’

‘No. I was so stunned I didn’t think about it. But it wasn’t a new car.’

‘Never mind.’ He chewed his firm lower lip. ‘The thing is, Rose, I just don’t see what
I can do. No one’s broken the law as far as I’m concerned. All right, two people are missing and these seemingly whacky sisters have changed their minds which is odd, but no more than that.’

Rose took a sip of her wine. It was as she had expected. Jack’s hands were tied. Now there was nothing more to say ‘Well, thank you for coming, anyway.’

‘Is that it? I’m being dismissed? I’d help if I could, you know that.’

‘No problem. I’m going to see them one more time. I might find out something useful.’

‘Rose, you really shouldn’t…’

‘Really shouldn’t what, Jack?’

‘Nothing. Forget it.’

‘Look, you’d better leave. Anna might not like you coming here.’ She was aware she sounded like a jealous teenager and she certainly hadn’t intended mentioning Anna’s name.

Jack’s blue eyes widened. This wasn’t like Rose. ‘Why should she mind? She knows we’re old friends. Besides, she isn’t that sort of person.’

Old friends. It sounded like an insult. Perhaps that’s how Barry felt when she referred to him in that way. ‘I see. So you’ve discussed
me with her.’

‘No, not discussed. I happened to mention that you were an artist, a good one, and that I’d known you for several years. I’ve only seen the woman a couple of times, I haven’t spelled out everything about us.’

Rose sniffed and topped up her glass, ignoring Jack’s empty one. It was ironical that she now felt more insulted that he had not discussed her with Anna. ‘What’s she like?’ She hated herself for asking.

‘In what way?’

Rose looked up. There was a hint of laughter in his eyes. ‘As a person.’ Go on, torture yourself, she thought.

‘Cheerful, witty and pleasant company is my first impression. Like myself, typical Cornish looks. Long dark hair, curvy figure, a little taller than you are. Satisfied, or is there anything else you’d like to know?’ He was smiling openly now. ‘Oh, and she’s forty-three.’

Dark, curvy and forty-three. Not at all the blonde floozie Rose had imagined. ‘No. I was just curious.’

‘And we all know where that’s got you before.’

‘Don’t start, Jack, I’m not in the mood for a row.’

‘Start? It was merely a truthful observation. Look, just for once, Rose, take my advice and stay out of this family affair. Whatever’s going on, whatever help you give them, they’ll end up resenting you if you interfere.’

‘What on earth makes you think you’re any longer in a position to give me advice?’

Jack was on his feet and had already opened the door. He turned to face her. ‘Because I’m still your friend. You seem to have a very selective memory, my dear. It was you who broke off our relationship, after which you saw other men. You seem to resent the opposite applying.’

‘Saw, yes. The odd drink or dinner, nothing more than that,’ she added defiantly. Rose felt her face redden.

‘And then you led me to believe you were interested again but really you were keeping me on a string. I’m sorry if my seeing Anna upsets you, but that’s the way it is.’ Jack was furious. A month or so ago, just when he thought he had another chance with Rose, she had become offhand and found excuses not to see him. Well, she couldn’t have it both ways. ‘I’d have married you, you know that, and I’d have been a faithful husband. But you didn’t want me. Therefore you have
no right, no right whatsoever, to treat me like this. I am perfectly free to see anybody I like, as are you. Goodnight, Rose.’ He closed the door with quiet deliberation and walked down the drive to his car.