Killed in Cornwall

by Janie Bolitho

  The Promenade was busy. There were couples, young, old and middle-aged, and children on bikes or running around. Most of the people looked happy; the sun seemed to have that effect.

  Laura looked out to sea. There was St Michael’s Mount, its outline as familiar to her as Trevor’s face. Her eyes followed the curve of the coastline. Fishing villages were tucked into the small bays and, in the distance, she could make out the satellites of Goonhilly and the sweep of land which led to the Lizard.

  Jack ignored the view. He was thinking of Rose. She was so close to her parents he could not imagine what the death of one or both of them would do to her. His own father was dead but they hadn’t got on. He had grieved, naturally, but not half as much as he would when his mother’s life ended. She was in her seventies and lived independently but he did not know for how much longer.

  They were halfway along the seafront when Jack said, ‘I thought we’d eat at the pool if that’s all right with you.’

  ‘Lovely. We always do that when the boys are down.’

  They stopped at a small shop to buy a bottle of wine. Laura grinned. ‘I was going to suggest that myself. At least let me pay for it.’

  The open-air pool was busy. It stretched out over Battery Rocks with only the sea beyond it. Children were shouting and splashing in the small pool, adults and older children swam in the irregular shaped main one. They entered the cafe gates and went up some steps to where large rope spools served as tables. Stuck in the centre holes were striped umbrellas. Everything dazzled; the water of the pool against the white walls, the spray from the splashing children and the iridescent sea.

  From the hatch of a small building, chips and burgers and ice-creams were sold but also, surprisingly, Greek food: hummus and calamari, grilled sardines with appropriate salads and pitta bread. Jack and Laura opted for Greek food and asked for two glasses for their wine. The cafe was not licensed but invited people to bring their own drinks.

  They sat in the blazing sun watching the activity around them as they waited for their meal.

  ‘We’ve interviewed everyone connected with those three girls, it doesn’t seem possible that we have no leads at all.’ Jack poured the wine which the shop-keeper had uncorked for him.

  ‘Is the same person responsible for all the attacks?’

  ‘We have to hope so although we’re not discounting more than one. What do you know of Lucy Chandler’s boyfriend?’

  ‘Not much really. He’s called Jason Evans, according to Rose, and he’s a year or so older than Lucy. Unemployed, according to Gwen, although he’s been looking for work. Second hand information, I’m afraid. You surely don’t think he raped her and that’s why she’s not talking?’

  According to Rose, Laura had said. So Rose knew the identity of the man they had been looking for but she hadn’t bothered to let him know. Rationally, he had to assume she would think they were already in possession of that knowledge. ‘I don’t know. Anyway, I didn’t bring you here to discuss this, I just can’t seem to get my mind off it. Ah, here comes our food.’

  Jack’s lightweight jacket hung over the back of his chair. He wore jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, pale yellow against his swarthy skin. He and Laura might have been related with their dark colouring and brown eyes. Laura was wearing a pink T-shirt and a short skirt which made her legs look even longer and thinner than they were. They ate and drank and half listened to the conversations taking place around them.

  ‘Barry’s got a full-time assistant.’

  ‘Yes, Rose told me.’

  ‘Daphne Hill. Barry and Rose went out to their house.’

  ‘Did they?’

  ‘Yes, it was all rather odd.’

  ‘Odd?’ Jack met Laura’s eyes.

  ‘Not in that way. Just sudden, I suppose. I mean, Daphne had only been working for Barry for just over a week, the next thing is they’re going there for drinks. Poor Rose.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘She hasn’t had an easy couple of weeks. There was the exhibition, and you know how nervous she gets, then Phyllis Brown died and now there’s Evelyn. And you know what she’s like, she worries about everyone.’

  ‘Who, for instance?’

  ‘Phyllis’s son, Nathan. And Doreen who’ll miss Phyllis dreadfully. And, of course, her father. Rose’s father, not Doreen’s,’ Laura clarified. ‘Anyway, let’s hope she gets in touch soon. That’s the last of the wine. Shall we make a move?’

  ‘Yes. I think I’ll have a quiet afternoon in the garden.’

  They walked back together until they reached the bottom of Morrab Road where Jack turned off. His ground floor flat included the back garden of the house which was mainly grass. There were flowering shrubs in the borders which required little attention, which was how he liked it. He cut the lawn at regular intervals and left it at that.

  Whilst other people enjoyed the summer afternoon Jack sat and brooded about the attacks and tried to think of a reason why Rose had not told him about her mother.

  Laura, having abandoned the idea of decorating, went down on the beach, leant back against the sea wall and drifted off to sleep.

  On Monday morning, having been reassured the previous evening that her mother would be out of hospital in a few days, Rose drove back to Cornwall. Her father’s relief at the good news was obvious and he was full of plans for the future. ‘I’ll do more around the house,’ he told Rose as she got ready to leave. ‘I’ll make sure she doesn’t overdo it. In fact, we could afford to have someone to come in to do the cleaning.’

  Rose smiled. She knew her mother would not allow that, that once she was fully recovered she would insist upon doing her own housework, but she said nothing.

  It was an uneventful journey home and much more relaxing than the one up had been.

  Only when she had crossed the Tamar Bridge did she recall what had taken place on Saturday night with Tony Boyd. She felt the heat rise in her face and opened the window a little more. It seemed impossible to believe she had acted in such an impulsive manner.

  The nearer home she was the more the events of the previous week filled her mind. Had Jack found Lucy Chandler’s rapist? Had he arrested anyone on a burglary charge? She had forgotten the telephone call when Doreen had mentioned police cars heading towards the Towans. Jack. How can I blame him for taking Anna out after the way I’ve behaved? she asked herself, recalling how hurt she had been even though she had been keeping Jack at a distance. Tony Boyd had been there at a time when she needed the comfort of physical contact. It had been no more than that. She would try to put him out of her mind.

  It was lunchtime when she arrived home. The sun was beating down. It was the hottest day of the year so far. She let herself in then went to collect the post from the mat and to listen to her messages. There were several from Jack. He sounded annoyed. Two concerned photographic work, which she would probably turn down, and there was one from Doreen asking her to ring. Doreen would be at work now, that would have to wait.

  She was making some lemon tea before she remembered she had not returned the call Laura had made when she was away.

  ‘Where are you? How’s Evelyn?’ were Laura’s first anxious words.

  ‘I’m back, and she’s a lot better. They’re letting her out by the end of the week.’

  ‘Thank goodness for that. We’ve all been so worried.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Me, Barry and Jack.’

  ‘Jack knows?’

  ‘Yes, we had lunch on Sunday. Oh, Rose, another girl was raped. But it’s worse, this time she was murdered.’

  ‘Oh, God, how awful.’ Suddenly her head was full of things she ought to have told Jack. Did it matter if Rod Hill was questioned now? Did it matter if Dave Fox who might equally be innocent or guilty had a visit from the police if it saved another life? On the other hand, just because he had a plaster on his hand did not mean Dave had been bitten by Helen Trehearne, and she might have been mistaken about Eva’s strange attitude towards Dave. But ther
e was something amiss there, of that she was certain.

  ‘Anyway, Gwen’s coming over tomorrow and she’s bringing Lucy with her. I doubt if she’ll say much, but you never know.’ Laura paused. ‘I don’t suppose you’re free to come for coffee?’

  Rose laughed. ‘You’re very transparent, Laura Penfold, but, yes, I’ll come.’ Now that her mother was on the mend she felt she could face anything.

  ‘Good. About eleven.’

  ‘What about Lucy’s job? Doesn’t she work in a hairdresser’s?’

  ‘Yes, but she’s got a doctor’s certificate. Gwen told her it was the best way to stop them from finding out what really happened.’

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  Rose made several other calls to let people know she was back and that the news was good.

  ‘Did you hear about the murder?’ Doreen asked once she was satisfied that Evelyn Forbes was on the road to recovery.

  ‘I did.’

  ‘What is the world coming to? Anyway, I’m still trying to get Nathan sorted out. He refuses to have anyone coming in, he says he looked after his mother he can look after himself.’

  ‘But surely the house is too big for him to cope with.’

  ‘I know that, ’e just won’t listen to sense. And if you ask me, that’s one stubborn man. It’s just sinking in, the fact that he won’t ever see Phyllis again. I called in yesterday, just to take him some saffron cake, I’ve got some for you, by the way, and he was just sitting there, curtains drawn, on a lovely day like that. Mind you, he was clean and shaved and the house was tidy. He’s moved Phyllis’s bed out of the sitting-room, too. Could you have a word with him, he’d have no truck with counsellors. You’ve always been a one for getting people out of the doldrums.’

  ‘I’ll think about it, Doreen, I’ve got a few things to catch up on first.’

  ‘Course you have, maid. I’ll speak to you soon.’

  Rose hung up. People did tend to confide in her, to tell her things they wouldn’t tell close relatives or friends. She never had been able to understand why that should be, unless it was simply because she wasn’t close. Two requests to talk to people in the short space of time since her return. What would Jack make of that? ‘Damn it, I’ll have to phone him,’ she said, wondering why she felt so nervous. Later, she decided. He would be too busy with work to take personal calls, even if he was in his office.

  She was in the kitchen making a tentative plan of where she would work which, as always, depended upon the weather, when a figure appeared in the doorway. It was Eva. What now? she thought irritably. I’ve only been back five minutes and everyone seems to need my attention. But the kitchen door was open, there was no escape. Too late she recalled Jack’s advice about locking it at all times.

  ‘I’m sorry to turn up like this, but I was in Penzance and I wondered if you’d heard about any jobs.’

  Rose had forgotten she’d intended to ask around. The sort of employment Eva was after was usually gained by word of mouth. Surely she hadn’t come out of her way when a telephone call would have sufficed? ‘I’m sorry, Eva. I’ve been away. I’ll let you know if I do hear of anything. No luck at the job centre or through the paper?’

  She shook her head. Even though she was troubled she was still lovely. Rose glanced at the kitchen clock. It was already after five. The afternoon had disappeared and she had had her fill of tea. ‘What is it, Eva?’ She looked as if she was about to start crying.

  ‘I don’t know. Everything.’

  Rose pulled out a chair and sat her in it. She handed her a tissue from the box on the fridge and decided that she might as well open a bottle of Chardonnay and listen to what Eva had to say. She realised it was one of the more expensive ones she had been keeping for a special occasion. ‘Tell me about it?’ she said as she placed their drinks on the table and sat down. The wine was well chilled, condensation formed on the sides of the glasses almost immediately. Rose took a sip. Well worth the extra money, she thought as Eva searched for the words with which to speak.

  ‘It’s not just a job, although that’s beginning to get to me. There isn’t much to do at the caravan and I can’t let Dave keep me for much longer.’ She sighed and brushed back the dark strands of hair. ‘It’s Dave,’ she said, very quietly. ‘He worries me.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘We have no secrets. Oh, I can’t expect you to believe that, but after what we’ve both been through, that’s how we wanted it. My problem is, Rose, I just don’t have anyone else to talk to. I don’t really know anyone down here yet.’

  ‘Eva, whatever you tell me won’t go any further unless you want it to.’

  ‘The thing is, I don’t know where Dave was on the Sunday night that girl was raped. And there’ve been a couple of other occasions since when he hasn’t said where he’s been. I know it sounds crazy, he’s a kind, gentle man, but that’s how he is with me. You see, I know there’ve been cases when the closest people are the last to know.’

  ‘You seriously think he has raped one girl, attacked another and killed a third?’ Even though Rose had had her own suspicions she was shocked to hear Eva voice them.

  ‘No. Not really.’ But the doubt was there.

  ‘I take it you have asked him?’

  ‘Yes. He says he can’t tell me. He was out last night, until very late. I pretended to be asleep, I couldn’t go through that again, asking questions and not knowing the answer.’

  Sunday. It was a Sunday that Lucy Chandler had been raped.

  ‘And he said he was working during the day. He rarely does that, unless he’s really behind because of the weather.’

  ‘I understand your concern, Eva, but what do you expect me to do?’

  ‘Nothing. I just wanted to tell someone, to see if it sounded as far-fetched to someone else. I just don’t know what to do. Do you think I should tell the police? I’d have to do it anonymously, I couldn’t bear for Dave to know even if he was guilty.’

  ‘That must be your decision. Apart from his not telling you where he was, has anything else made you suspicious?’

  She chewed the side of her thumbnail then took a sip of her wine. Rose thought she wasn’t going to answer. ‘He’s got a plaster on his hand. He said he’d torn it on some barbed wire. The paper said the second girl bit her attacker on the hand. He hasn’t taken the plaster off yet. Well, if he’s changed it, it’s not been when I’ve been around.’

  ‘But he’s working with earth, he can’t afford to get dirt in the wound.’

  ‘I’ve told myself that, too. Rose, please tell me, what should I do?’

  All these things had crossed Rose’s mind before she had learnt of her mother’s illness. She had not known what to do herself, how could she possibly advise Eva who obviously loved the man? ‘Do you know someone called Rod Hill?’

  ‘No.’ Eva frowned. ‘Wait, the name does ring a bell. I think Dave may have done some work for him. Why?’

  ‘Oh, it isn’t important. More wine?’ She got up to pour it hoping Eva wouldn’t question her further. ‘Look, I think the police ought to know. I don’t know Dave as you do, but I find it very hard to believe him capable of such things. On the other hand, as you said, you can’t always judge. I know someone who would treat the situation sympathetically. Would you trust me to tell him? I won’t even mention your name.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I think that’s best. I can’t live with this uncertainty. I love him, Rose, I’ll still love him whatever he’s done, but I couldn’t live with him, protecting him, like some women do, knowing he’d hurt someone. There’s been enough violence in my life.’

  ‘All right, leave it to me. You don’t think you might be in any danger, do you?’

  ‘No. Strange as that sounds, I really don’t.’

  ‘Fine. I’ll ring Dave if I do hear of a job.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Eva stood up. She was silhouetted against the sunshine streaming through the kitchen door. She looked almost ethereal as she reached for her bag that was on
the floor. ‘Thank you for listening. I know I shouldn’t have come, but there was no one else, and you were kind to me when I was here with Dave.’ She smiled wanly. ‘I could see you really wanted to be getting on with some work.’

  ‘I’ll be in touch, Eva.’ Rose watched her walk down the drive. Now I’ll really have to ring Jack, Rose thought.

  Everyone connected with the three girls had been interviewed more than once but Inspector Jack Pearce was convinced that the person they were looking for did not know them. The girls had not known one another and there seemed to be no common denominator. It has to be the same person, Jack thought as he had packed up for the day on Monday. No weapon had been used. Lucy Chandler had received blows from a fist, as had Helen Trehearne, although not so many and she had managed to get away. Nichola Rolland had been manually strangled. Whoever it was did not go about armed. Not yet, at least. It was the not yet which worried Jack. Another murder must be prevented.

  He thought about Laura as he drove home. Laura and Rose had known the identity of Lucy Chandler and neither of them had mentioned it to him. And Lucy Chandler was keeping something back, as was her boyfriend, Jason Evans. He had been interviewed early that morning.

  ‘We went for a drive and stopped for a drink,’ Jason had explained. ‘We had a row, it started from nothing, and she walked out on me.’

  ‘You didn’t follow her?’

  ‘No. I stayed in the pub for a while then I drove home.’

  Hardly gallant, Jack had thought, but it wasn’t a crime. The barmaid had confirmed his story up to the time he had left.

  And Jason’s description did not fit the very sketchy one he had been given by Helen Trehearne. Lucy had not been able to provide one at all. Why not? Too many questions. I’m going to forget it all for this evening and have a few pints myself, he decided.

  He parked outside his flat and let himself in. It was stuffy. Being at street level he could not leave any windows open when he was out. He poured a beer and opened the back door. From the other side of the high fence separating him from his neighbour came the irritating buzz of a lawn-mower. The fragrance of newly cut grass was in the air. Jack stood still, his face to the sun, deciding which hostelry would have the benefit of his custom, when he was disturbed by the telephone. He went in to answer it.