A Cornish Revenge (The Loveday Ross Cornish Mysteries Book 1) (10 page)

CHAPTER NINE

    Even before she opened the curtains Loveday could tell that it was a drizzly, grey morning. She peeked out and shivered at the bank of mist creeping across the bay. As she watched, the shape of the mount grew fuzzy until it was only a vague impression. It was the gloomy, dripping kind of morning that Loveday hated, but today it matched her mood.

She’d gone to bed feeling emotionally drained, and woken in a similar frame of mind. She plugged in the kettle before dragging herself to the bathroom for the daily showering ritual. Her head was still thudding as she came and went in search of  Paracetamol to have with her cup of Earl Grey tea.

If Lawrence was to be cleared of any suspicion of this murder then she had to get a move on. Leaving it to Inspector Kitto didn’t seem to be an option. She would prove her friend’s innocence – even if she had to solve the thing herself.

  Cassie’s back door opened when she heard Loveday leaving. She ran out in her dressing gown, rattling a small bunch of keys, and grimaced apologetically. ‘You’re not going into Truro by any chance?

Loveday nodded.

‘Could I beg a huge favour?’

Loveday heaved an exaggerated sigh and rolled her eyes skywards ‘What now?’ she joked.

‘They’re for the Blue Lady. I forgot to give them back to Magdalene.’ She gave her an imploring look. ‘I know it’s an awful liberty…but I just wondered…. if you happen to be in the area.’

  Loveday grinned at her, reaching for the keys. ‘It’ll cost you.’

  ‘A glass of white when you get back. How’s that?’

  ‘It’ll do,’ Loveday grinned, turning to wave as she put the car into gear and crunched down the drive.

  The Bentine house was on the north side of the city and Loveday decided to call in on her way into the office. The misty drizzle had developed into a downpour by the time she joined the queuing cars waiting to negotiate the Chiverton roundabout.

The Bentine file lay on the passenger seat beside her and as she glanced down at it, the terrible image down in the cove that day once again flashed into her mind. It was as though she was standing above it and could see the knots in the twine used to tie Bentine’s wrists to the tent pegs that had secured him to the beach. Someone had actually taken the man’s body to the deserted cove – or maybe not. Maybe he’d been alive when he arrived there…gone willingly with his killer perhaps, ignorant of his imminent demise?

The traffic moved and Loveday edged the car closer to the roundabout. She forced herself to concentrate on the road ahead. But somewhere in amongst those newspaper cuttings by her side was the key that would unlock the whole mystery. The trouble was, she suspected that there might be more than one key. The trick would be to find the right one.    

  The traffic was moving again and she followed it onto the roundabout, taking the exit that took her down through the retail estates, past the hospital and the college, into the city centre.

  She almost forgot about Cassie’s errand and only remembered her promise to deliver the keys when she was nearing the city centre. She cursed, turning back at the next roundabout. Once off the main thoroughfare, the roads were quiet. It didn’t take long to reach the secluded cul de sac where Magdalene lived.

But as she approached the corner she had to pull up to allow a police car to emerge. It was followed by another vehicle. Loveday studied them with interest then her eyes flew open. Magdalene Bentine was in the back of the second car. And she looked far from happy as she stared ahead, her back ramrod stiff.

Loveday’s brow creased. Was Magdalene being arrested? She pulled into the side of the road, behind another parked car, while she thought about this. Maybe she was just going to help the police with their enquiries? But couldn’t they have questioned her at home? She could be going in to look at photographs, to identify someone perhaps…so why the accompanying police car?

  The clock on her dashboard was creeping past nine o’clock. She didn’t want to be late again. Magdalene’s involvement with the police was something she would have to think about later. She made a three point turn, realising as she did so that there was a man at the wheel of the parked vehicle.  And if she wasn’t mistaken, he was wearing a dog collar.

The traffic was heavy as Loveday drove into the centre. The electronically controlled gate into the magazine’s private car park was open and she caught sight of Merrick’s car just ahead. She followed him through the high iron gates, pulling into the space next to his. He was getting out and gave her a wave before pointing his key to lock his car. They exchanged greetings and walked together into the building and up to the editorial offices where Merrick paused before opening the door.

  ‘Look Loveday,’ he said. ‘You can talk to me about it you know.’

  ‘Talk about what?’

  ‘Well you’re obviously worried about something. Is it Lawrence? I thought he was in the clear now?’

  For the first time since the murder Loveday realised the effect her behaviour must be having on the people around her. She’d been so worried about Lawrence, and now she seemed to have got herself involved with Magdalene Bentine. If she had thought about it she would have been more aware of the worried glances her colleagues were sharing. She’d been selfish…maybe now was the time to unload some of her thoughts. Another point of view might help.  ‘Actually, Merrick,’ she said, ‘There is something I would like to run past you.’

  They went into his office giving nods in response to the curious glances as they passed through the main office. Merrick slipped off his coat and hung it carefully on the hanger at the back of his door. He went to his desk, indicating the chair opposite for Loveday. Then he sat, fingers steepled waiting for her to begin.

  ‘Lawrence has done nothing wrong, you know.’ She hadn’t meant to sound so defensive.

  Merrick shrugged. ‘Did I say otherwise?’

  ‘No, but you’re looking as though you’re feeling sorry for me.’ Her teeth caught at her bottom lip. ‘He’s a sweet, gentle guy, Merrick…and he doesn’t deserve all this. It’s just that there were things in his past that the police wanted to check.’

  Merrick raised an eyebrow and Loveday wondered if Sam had discussed the case…discussed Lawrence…with him. They were friends, certainly, but surely a police officer was bound by some sort of confidentiality regarding the people they interviewed – especially when they were innocent? She could see Sam’s face, his uncompromising dark eyes. He might be arrogant, certainly annoying, but she couldn’t see him discussing a case with anyone other than a colleague.

  ‘There are things I can’t talk about; things Lawrence told me in confidence. But I am absolutely certain that he had nothing to do with Bentine’s death.’

  She studied Merrick’s face for some indication that he believed her, but his expression was confused. How could she expect him to understand any of this when she wasn’t sure herself what was going on?

  Merrick was sitting back in his swivel chair, hands now clasped behind his head, as he considered the situation. He frowned and pressed his lips together. ‘If the police have released Lawrence then why are you still so worried, Loveday?’

  ‘Because,’ she said with a sigh, ‘There is a connection.’

  She saw Merrick’s back straighten, but it was too late now to change her mind about telling him. ‘You may as well know,’ she sighed. ‘Lawrence knew Bentine. When he lived in Cambridge, he knew him.’ She paused. ‘Oh, what the hell, it’s all out there on the Internet anyway, if you know where to look. But for the moment, Merrick, I need your assurance that you won’t repeat what I’m going to tell you.’

  Merrick looked stung. ‘Do you have to ask?’

  ‘No, of course I don’t. I’m sorry. It’s just me getting paranoid about this thing.’

  Over the next ten minutes she recounted the details of the horrific accident, and of how Lawrence had served five years in prison after admitting a charge of causing death by dangerous driving.

She told him about the anonymous note that took Lawrence to Borlase Cove that evening, placing him at the murder location at the very time when Bentine was reported to have died.

But Loveday didn’t mention that Lawrence’s confession at the time had been perjury. She was still trying to get her head round the fact that he had taken the blame for the tragic accident when, in fact, it had been his alcoholic wife, Anchriss, who had been driving that night.

  Merrick listened, his expression thoughtful.

  ‘So you see,’ she said, shrugging. ‘I have to help him. We have to prove he is completely innocent.’

  Merrick’s sigh was long and deep. ‘You’re on a crusade here, aren’t you, Loveday?’

  He leant across his desk to take her hand, and then remembered the rest of the editorial floor was probably keeping an interested eye on the pair of them.

  ‘I suppose it’s no use telling you not to get involved?’

  Her look confirmed this.

  ‘Don’t antagonize the police, Loveday. Leave it to Sam and his crew. They know what they’re doing.’ He smiled wryly, ‘Sam really is quite competent, you know. If it’s there, he will find it.’

  ‘Actually,’ she said innocently. ‘There is more...I think they have arrested Bentine’s wife…widow.’

  Merrick’s eyes widened and Loveday continued, ‘I was up there this morning and saw them driving her off in a police car. She didn’t look very happy about it.’

‘I suppose it would be too much to expect you to tell me what you were doing there?’

  Loveday told him about the keys to the Blue Lady as she fished them out of her bag.

  ‘For goodness sake, Loveday,’ he exploded. ‘Why have you still got them? You have to hand these keys over right now! Take them to Sam…immediately!’

  Loveday bit her lip and stared at the keys now lying on the desk between them. 

  ‘Don’t even think about it!’ he warned. ‘Whatever is in your mind just forget it!

  ‘I just wanted a quick look at the boat again before handing them over.’

  ‘You know, Loveday,’ Merrick hissed, ‘…Sometimes I just don’t believe you. Have you any idea what trouble you would be in if you went to that boat?’ His eyes rolled to the ceiling. ‘It could be a murder scene, for heavens sake, and you are considering stumbling in… contaminating everything…’

  Loveday stared at him. ‘You think Bentine could have been killed on the boat?

  Merrick’s hands spread in an expressive gesture that conveyed he had no idea. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, his voice rising. ‘…But the point it…neither do you!’

  Loveday was biting her lip again. ‘You’re right,’ she said reluctantly. ‘…But I have to let Cassie know first. She’s the one who had the keys, after all.’

  ‘Do it now,’ Merrick ordered. ‘Then take the keys to Sam…and don’t give him any hint that you even considered doing otherwise.’

Truro’s Piazza was buzzing. Since its rebirth as a community space from the city’s former bus station, the vast area was used for all kind of public entertainment, from carnivals to charity events.

The annual food festival was to take place that coming weekend and a big green and white marquee had been erected overnight in readiness. The area was littered with contractors’ vehicles and men in dark blue overalls were hammering together staging, erecting scaffolding poles and unloading tables into the marquee.

Resisting the urge to join the growing audience watching the activities, Loveday skirted round them and cut down into Green Street on her way to the police station.

If DI Sam Kitto was any kind of copper he would be grateful to her for handing over these keys. So why did she have this nagging feeling that her turning up out of the blue would only antagonize him again?

  The young constable at the reception desk eyed her with disinterest as she walked in. ‘DI Kitto, please.’ She told him curtly.

  ‘Can I say what it’s about?’ he said, trying to sound like he cared.

  ‘Just tell him Loveday Ross is here…about the murder.’

  The constable’s head snapped up and he stared at her. ‘Murder?’ he said. ‘What murder would that be?’

  ‘Oh, for heavens sake,’ Loveday snapped. ‘Is he in or not?’

  The officer picked up a phone punched at a keypad, and after a few seconds said. ‘A Miss Ross to see you, sir. Something about the murder investigation.’

He looked up at Loveday and nodded as though the person at the other end of the line could see him. ‘Very good, sir.’

  He opened a drawer under the counter and produced a red visitor’s badge. ‘Pin this on,’ he instructed. ‘…And somebody will be down to collect you.’

After five or six minutes, a woman a few years older than herself, strode into the reception area. She arched an eyebrow in Loveday’s direction. ‘Miss Ross?’

Loveday nodded and stood up.

‘I’ll take you up to the CID room,’ she said.

  They walked side by side along a corridor and up a flight of stairs and through another set of doors before stopping and entering what looked like any busy office.

If she had been a different kind of journalist, working on a newspaper, she would probably have been familiar with the inside of the local police station. But neither she nor her colleagues at the magazine had any call to visit here.