A Cornish Revenge (The Loveday Ross Cornish Mysteries Book 1) (4 page)

  Sam nodded, ‘OK. So how long had you been there before the others turned up?’

  She shrugged. ‘About half an hour I suppose.’ She saw his eyebrow arch slightly and rushed on defensively. ‘I wanted to get there early…to do a recce.’

  ‘A recce?’

  ‘Yes, check out the area…select the best sites for the pictures, that kind of thing.’

   ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘You’re a journalist.’

  He’d said the word as though he’d only just remembered. But he didn’t fool her. She knew he would have made it his business to know exactly who she was. She wasn’t sure she liked his little deception…but he was a policeman, and as he said, this was a murder inquiry.

‘Did you go anywhere near the cliff edge?’

  ‘No…well not until we went looking for Flossie.’

  ‘Flossie?’

  ‘Lawrence’s dog.’

  Loveday frowned. ‘Excuse me, Inspector, but why are you even asking this? Surely whoever killed that poor man got to the cove by boat.’

  ‘Why would you assume that?’ Sam had a way of looking at her that made her blood course faster.

  She stammered. ‘…The cliffs…well they’re not exactly climber friendly.’

  ‘Could Lawrence climb them?’

She looked up sharply. Why was he asking that?  ‘Maybe…’ she hesitated. ‘…But not with a body in tow.’

  ‘Who says there would have been a body in tow? Our victim could have climbed down with his killer, and then been attacked on the beach.’

  Loveday sat up. She didn’t like the way this conversation was going. ‘You’re not suggesting Lawrence had anything to do with this?’

‘Why did he chose the cliffs for that morning’s art class?’

She shrugged. ‘You’ll have to ask him that, Inspector.’

Until now Loveday hadn’t given much thought as to how the body might have got there. She’d been trying to avoid remembering that image on the beach. But now that they were having this conversation, she was sticking to her guns.

‘I still think your killer came in on the tide, which rules Lawrence out because I know for sure that he doesn’t know how to handle a boat.’

‘He might not have needed to be a great sailor…not if he knew that bit of coast really well.’

Loveday stood up, glaring down at him.
She was annoyed now that he was still wearing the tweed jacket that had reminded her of her father. ‘Is this the only line of enquiry you’re pursuing?’

  ‘I think you know, Miss Ross,’ he replied lightly, also getting to his feet, ‘that I can’t discuss that.’

  He was treating her like an intrusive journalist and Loveday felt herself bristle. Was he enjoying winding her up?

He was heading for door, his big frame making the small room feel even smaller. ‘I’ve appreciated our chat…and we
will
be considering everything you’ve said. And oh, just one more thing.’ He turned to face her. ‘Did you actually take any photographs today, Miss Ross?’

  The question took Loveday by surprise. She’d forgotten about the pictures. An uneasy chill was beginning to sweep through her as she recalled that moment at the edge of the cliff when she lifted her camera and began clicking. Should she have mentioned this when she was questioned earlier? She looked up, holding his questioning stare, and nodded. ‘But I don’t think they’ll help much. They’re still in my camera. I haven’t even looked at them yet.’

  He was watching her in a way that said what kind of journalist wouldn’t have checked out the pictures.

  ‘Perhaps I could see them?’

  Loveday inclined her head. ‘The police headquarters is only a few minutes from my office in Truro, and I have to go in tomorrow. I’ll bring the camera along in the morning. You can download the pictures.’ There was no way she was handing over her camera. It had nothing to do with this investigation.

  ‘That will be fine,’ Sam said, turning to go.

She winced as he bumped his head on the low lintel over the front door, but she didn’t apologise for not warning him about it.

CHAPTER THREE

  The raucous cries of the gulls on the roof of Loveday’s cottage woke her next morning, or maybe it had been the sun streaming in through the gap in the curtains. She got up and threw open the window. Out in the bay a solitary yacht, its white sails billowing, glided in front of the Mount.

The wild rabbits that lived beneath the hedge surrounding her garden were up and about, breakfasting on the thick grass below her window. The phone rang just as she was stepping out of the shower, and she cursed when she saw the caller’s name flashing.

Merrick Tremayne was the owner/publisher of
Cornish Folk
magazine, and Loveday’s immediate boss. Why hadn’t she called him? He’d have heard about yesterday’s drama by now and would now be panicking about those two blank pages that still had to be filled.

But she was wrong. Merrick’s voice was full of concern.

  ‘You should have rung me, Loveday I’ve been worried…well, we all have. What a terrible thing finding a body like that.’

  ‘Hang on, Merrick. How did you know about that?’

  ‘Sam Kitto rang me. Don’t even think about coming in this morning.’

  ‘Inspector Kitto? You know him?’ Her voice rose in surprise.

  ‘What? Well, yes of course I do,’ he said distractedly, a touch of irritation creeping into his voice. ‘Look, Loveday. I really do want you to take the day off. Delayed reaction can be serious.’

  ‘Thanks for the concern.’ So Merrick and the inspector were buddies?  She wondered what else the policeman had told her boss about her…or the other way round, perhaps?  She forced her mind back to her work. ‘We still have the problem of those two empty pages … remember?’

  But Merrick waved her protests aside. ‘Don’t worry. Everything’s sorted. We’ll be digging into the picture files and we’re sure to come up with a good enough collection of photos to make a spread. I’ll go in today and write the copy and we’ll easily fill that space.’ He paused. ‘So you see, Loveday, in the nicest possible way, you’re just not needed in the office today.’

  Merrick was a perfectionist, and although he seldom overruled her in the running of the magazine’s editorial, he was quick to step in if he felt something wasn’t right. She knew he wouldn’t be happy using this emergency stopgap material.

  ‘I
am
fine,’ she insisted. ‘And I appreciate your concern, but it’s my job to fill those pages, and I will.’

  ‘Er…excuse me young lady. I’m still the boss around here, and I’m telling you to leave this to me.’

  Loveday sighed. From her window she could see the sun glinting on the water. She suddenly had an urge to be out running across the white sandy beach. ‘Well…if you’re sure - ’  she said hesitantly. 

  ‘Perfectly sure,’ Merrick insisted. ‘You just relax today. That’s an order.’

  ‘Thanks, Merrick. I appreciate this,’ she laughed, and knew he was smiling too, as he rang off.

It suited Merrick Tremayne to let people think he took a back seat in the running of
Cornish Folk
, but none of them doubted he was the driving force behind the magazine’s popularity. His passion for it had been evident from the day Loveday first met him.

Delighted to have been selected as a candidate for the assistant editor’s post, she had turned up at the magazine’s Truro office for the interview in her best navy suit, climbed the stairs and was directed through the editorial floor to the editor’s room.

Loveday hadn’t needed to think about it. Her hand shot across the desk and she grinned at her new boss. ‘When can I start?’ she’d said.

She was still smiling at the memory as she jogged along the beach ten minutes later, and still wondering about Merrick’s friendship with the big detective. There was a taste of salt in the tangy air, and a breeze had sprung up, creaming the tops of the waves. A sudden image of the body in the cove flashed through her mind, making her shiver. Would she ever get the horror of it out of her head?

The policemen had asked for her camera. When she didn’t turn up with it as promised, he’d be suspicious. But what did she care? There would be nothing of interest in any of the pictures anyway. Even so, she was curious now as she turned and headed for home.

The camera was still in the satchel along with the rest of her equipment. She pulled it out and switched on her laptop. As it whirred into life she extricated the camera’s memory card and slid it into the computer.

There were 138 pictures on the card. She’d forgotten to erase the ones she’d taken last week. Identifying the clifftop shots, she put them into a separate file and viewed them as a full screen slide show…nothing special about these. Then she gasped as the shots she’d taken when she first saw the body flashed across the screen.

The man was staked out spread-eagled below. She could even zoom into his face if she chose. Her hand went over her mouth. Sam Kitto mustn’t see these. His opinion of journalists was already low enough. She replayed the slide show and squirmed at the very thought that she could have taken such pictures. But it had been a reflex action, her journalist training kicking in. It wasn’t as though she ever planned to use them. But she knew the detective might not see it like that. Saving the images into her laptop, Loveday ejected the card and put it back into her camera, and then she deleted the shots of the cove. Sam Kitto wasn’t going to see them.

  She jumped as someone knocked the front door. Not Cassie; she always came through the kitchen. The young PC who stood there was tall and thin with a round, red face.

  ‘Miss Ross? DI Kitto has asked me to collect a camera.’

  Loveday went back to her sitting room and removed the camera’s memory card again. ‘I think this is what he wants,’ she said, sliding it into an envelope.

  The constable cleared his throat and Loveday noticed the colour in his cheeks had deepened. ‘I believe I have to collect the camera as well,’ he said.

  Loveday shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’ She was beginning to feel sorry for the young man. ‘I need the camera for work,’ she explained, smiling. ‘Your inspector will find all he wants here.’ She held out the envelope and the constable took it.

  The police car was hardly out of the drive when Cassie tapped the back door and walked in. ‘You’ve been holding out on me, girl,’ she said.

  ‘Enlighten me,’ Loveday said.

  ‘Your dishy policeman…Was that him again?’

  ‘That was a very young, still wet behind the ears, PC.’

  ‘Not the one with the come to bed eyes who came last night then?’

   Loveday narrowed her eyes, laughing. ‘Have you been spying on me?

‘How else can I find out things if you don’t tell me?’

  Loveday shook her head, but she was still smiling as she re-packed her equipment satchel. ‘Ok. I’ll tell you exactly what happened yesterday.’ She made coffee as she described how she and Lawrence had found the body in the cove. Cassie listened, blinking in disbelief as the story unfolded.

  ‘But that’s awful. Why didn’t you come knocking on my door yesterday?’

  ‘The police asked us not to discuss it with anyone. The only people I’ve spoken to are the ones who were there when we found the body.’

  Cassie pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘It was on Radio Cornwall news this morning, but I’d no idea you were involved.’

  ‘Did they name the dead man?’

  Cassie shook her head. ‘I think they are still trying to identify him. What did the young copper want?’

  ‘The policeman – the dishy one, as you described him, who called last night -  wants to look at the pictures I took yesterday.’ She was regretting deleting the cove shots now. Could that be construed as withholding evidence? If she was honest, she had no idea why she had done it, apart from this worrying feeling of guilt.

‘Is he married?’ Cassie had perfected the art of looking innocent when she asked a loaded question.

‘Cassie, for heaven’s sake! How should I know?’

Cassie tapped her ring finger. ‘Don’t tell me you didn’t notice if he was wearing a ring?’

Loveday grabbed a cushion from a kitchen chair and swiped at her, laughing. She’d absolutely no idea if Sam Kitto was married. She turned so that her friend wouldn’t see her mouth twitch. But he was definitely
not
wearing a ring.

‘OK, I get the message.’ She gave Loveday a good-natured scowl. ‘If you’re not going into the office, why not come with me to Falmouth Marina. There are a few bits I still need to check over on the Blue Lady. In fact,’ she added decisively, ‘Come across and have lunch with us.’

 
Loveday was about to protest when Cassie cut in, ‘Oh, don’t look like that. It’s just soup and a sandwich.’ She tilted her head and grinned. ‘Even you can manage a salad sandwich.’

  Loveday relented. She liked Cassie and her family. It had been her lucky day when she rented the little cottage in the grounds of Cassie and Adam’s, big house. Their children were adorable, and Loveday was always secretly flattered when they called her ‘Auntie Loveday’.

After lunch Loveday drove them to the marina. ‘You’re about to get a taste of how the other half lives,’ Cassie said, giving directions into the marina’s parking area.

  ‘What if your clients are not on board?’ Loveday asked, as her friend reached into the back of the car for the black leather case that was her travelling workshop, and produced a set of keys.

  ‘They’re up north somewhere at the moment,’ she explained. ‘But they trust me – at least Magdalene does. I don’t know the husband, not that it matters because it’s Magdalene’s boat.’

  Loveday looked around. There weren’t as many yachts as she’d expected. But Cassie explained it was getting late into the season and some owners had already started to remove their vessels.