What every body is saying: DI Tregunna Cornish Crime novel

by Carla Vermaat

  ‘They say everything is being dumped on the same pile anyway,’ she says with a hint of cynicism. ‘Let’s hope that isn’t true.’

  The truck rounds the corner and we gain a bit of speed until we approach a set of temporary traffic lights installed near a crew of men filling potholes in the road. Several of the men have mobile phones in their hand instead of a work tool. I glance at Isabel’s face; by now Penrose would be agitated by the hold up, venting her frustration loudly about road workers. Men in general. In contrast, Ward is stoic, unemotional.

  ‘Janice came home first. She’s Leanne’s younger sister. Elsie’s sister had collected the three younger boys from school and they were still there. As usual Janice walked from the bus stop on Treloggan Road. Elsie was standing at the window. She didn’t want to go out, in case there was news. She was scared that her other daughter wouldn’t come home either.’

  ‘Understandable.’

  ‘In a way, yes. As soon as Elsie saw Janice, she went to open the front door. Embraced her as if they had been separated for weeks. Janice was quite …. embarrassed by her mother’s affection and pushed her away. It wasn’t weird or odd; it was just the reaction of a teenager thinking she’s too old for a hug.’ A brief pause. ‘You know.’

  ‘Hm.’

  ‘Anyway, that was why Elsie didn’t notice that Leanne was following her sister at a short distance. The front door was still half open. Janice stamped up the stairs angrily, or whatever her feelings were, and Elsie was starting to cry. The front door was pushed open. From where I was sitting on one of those three sofas, I had a clear view of the street. I saw Leanne approaching up the path and recognised her instantly. She was dressed in the same clothes as those that had been described when she disappeared, carrying her school bag as though she’d just got off the school bus with her friends and school mates.’ Isabel frowns thoughtfully. ‘It was kind of odd.’

  We pass the boating lake. For no particular reason, I look across towards my flat. Waiting for a few horse riders trotting along the dried overgrown banks of the Gannel river, we turn left and leave Newquay behind us.

  ‘Patrick had barely moved since I arrived there. All the time, he was staring at the TV screen, not seeing or hearing anything. He said he wouldn’t move until there was news about Leanne. We ran to the hallway and he was just quick enough to catch Elsie, almost fainting when she heard Leanne’s voice behind her, saying, ‘Hi Mum.’

  ‘That’s what she said? As if she hadn’t been away for twenty-four hours?’

  ‘Exactly.’ She smiles approvingly.

  ‘Patrick grabbed his daughter and his wife in the same embrace. I said it would be advisable to get Leanne’s clothes into plastic bags to send to forensics, but I was ignored. Not deliberately, mind you, it was just that Patrick was holding them so tight. He was crying. Elsie was staring over his shoulder, looking at me incredulously. She clearly couldn’t believe it. I could see that she didn’t want to move because she was afraid that it was only a dream.’

  I can almost picture the situation: a frozen image of three people holding each other, clinging to hope and relief, fears already dissolving.

  ‘What was the first thing Leanne said?’

  Isabel Ward cast me a sideways glance. ‘You’re really into this case, aren’t you, Andy? More than usual, I’d say.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ I say reluctantly. ‘It was a strange case from the beginning. Guthrie calling and asking me to see the Lobbs, just because he thought Patrick was an attention-seeking nutcase.’

  ‘Hm. I see what he meant, though. From what I saw of Patrick, I think that he is one of the most stubborn people I have ever met. His constant calls to the police must have been a nuisance. I can partly understand that it put the call handlers off.’ She sighs. ‘But, answering your question, Leanne’s first words were: “Hey, what’s this all about?”

  I let these words sink in. ‘Like she came home from school like on any other day?’

  ‘That was my impression.’

  ‘She must have thought that her day off school hadn’t been noticed.’

  ‘Which is hardly likely because her sister goes to the same school. Still, she thought that she was in the clear, although that thought was short-lived. She wriggled out of her parents embrace but I could see her struggling to maintain an air of self-confidence. She realised that things wouldn’t be so straightforward as soon as she saw me in the doorway. She tried, though, saying “What’s up?” at which point her father kind of recovered from his shock and, as happens with parents, his relief about her safe return was replaced with anger.’

  Isabel stops talking, slowing down and concentrating on the traffic, waiting behind a bike rider before overtaking after a bend in the road. Then she continues: ‘He shouted at her: “Where the hell have you been? Don’t you understand that we have been sick with worry? How could you have been so selfish? What the hell were you thinking?” Meanwhile Elsie started to sob and she clung to her daughter as if she thought she needed to protect her from Patrick’s fury. Then Janice came down from upstairs. “Where have you been?” she asked Leanne and that seemed to set things in motion. They were all quiet for half a minute and I suggested to Janice that she should make us a big pot of tea and we could all go into the living room. Luckily, they did what I told them to do. Elsie drew the curtains and Patrick turned his back on us. I asked Leanne to take off all her clothes and put everything in evidence bags so Janice went upstairs to collect fresh clothes for her and then she made us all a cup of tea. I called the station and told Guthrie as Maloney was out of reach on his mobile.’

  ‘So that was the end of her disappearance,’ I say slowly.

  Isabel continues, ‘I tried to question Leanne without the presence of her father, but he simply refused to leave us. He demanded to hear everything. He was clearly suspicious that there was a man involved and he was already thinking about revenge, but unless I called the station for help to physically remove him, there was nothing I could do. Besides, I didn’t think it was so important because Leanne started telling us what had happened before I could ask her any questions. She said nothing bad had happened to her. She hadn’t been victim of a child abuser. She hadn’t been assaulted or raped. There was no need to see a doctor, not even a nurse. She was perfectly healthy and in good shape. She was only very, very tired.’

  ‘Did you believe her?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes. Well, I did think she wasn’t telling the whole truth, but she looked alright. Her clothes didn’t show any sign that she’d been assaulted and clearly she wasn’t in distress as if she’d been raped. She hadn’t been crying either. At that point, I thought she only looked very tired.’

  ‘Where had she been?’

  ‘To Plymouth. To see a gig by some pop star. I checked and the event had actually taken place.’

  ‘Has someone seen CCTV images to check if she’d really been there?’

  ‘No. I reckon Maloney won't be that keen on wasting time on that. She wouldn't lie about it.’

  ‘How did she get to Plymouth?’

  ‘She got on the school bus to Newquay. We’d already established that she and her friend Siobhan went to Newquay, supposedly for a sleep-over party with Carensa Pencreek. But instead of going on to Carensa’s, Leanne took another bus to Plymouth. She must have changed her clothes at the bus station. She arrived in Plymouth, got something to eat in Subway’s and went to the gig. So far, everything seemed to go as planned. It was only because the pop star – I forgotten his name now, Tam or Sam or something – joined the fans, including Leanne, after the gig and had a drink with them. That’s why she was late and missed the last bus back to Newquay.’

  ‘Don’t tell me she spent the night with the pop star.’

  ‘No. There was a girl, Stacey, who lives in Plymouth and she said Leanne could go home with her. She didn’t want her parents to know about the gig either and so she sneaked Leanne into her room. They had to wait the next morning until Stacey’s mother went to work, which w
as why Leanne was unable to catch the first bus and arrive at school in time as she had hoped so that nobody would think she’d been anywhere other than staying with Carensa, as her parents had thought.’

  We drive in silence for a while. I try to put the events in the right order. It all sounds pretty logical and credible to me, but something is nagging at me. Leanne might be back safe and sound, but there is something not quite right about her story.

  ‘Do you believe her?’ I ask finally.

  ‘It seems that everything is all right. Leanne was certainly smitten with the pop star. She couldn’t resist going but she knew her parents wouldn’t let her go if she asked them. It makes sense that she tried to get her own way.’ She shakes her head when I open my mouth to interrupt. ‘Come on, Andy, we’ve all been fourteen. We’ve all lied to our parents when there was something which, to us, at least, was a matter of life and death. I sneaked out with my best friend to be with a group of friends in a barn in a nearby farm. We did nothing except talk and tell each other ghost stories, but the attraction was that we were there illegally, so to speak. In hindsight, I think that my parents probably knew …’

  I raise my hand. ‘What did you just say, Isabel?’

  ‘I said that we told ghost sto…’

  ‘Not that. About your friend.’

  ‘Oh. Yes. Of course I would never have been so brave to climb out of my bedroom window if I’d been on my own. We only did that when my best friend was staying with me. I would have been too scared and … wow, Andy, I see what you mean!’

  I nod pensively. ‘Does Leanne strike you as a girl who would travel all the way to Plymouth on her own? Coming back late in the evening? On her own?’

  ‘No. she doesn’t.’

  ‘Someone is lying. Which is why I wish to speak to Leanne. And to her best friend, Siobhan Carter.’

  Sensing her looking at me several times, Isabel doesn’t remind me that the case is closed. She doesn’t ask why I feel I can’t let go of this case.

  I wouldn’t have known the answer.

  11

  Andrea Burke is a forensic scientist with a strong preference for the colour red. She has dyed ruby red hair and a pair of red-rimmed glasses. I have never seen her wearing anything else other than clothes in shades of red. Even when she is dressed in a white forensic suit the dominant colour red shines through it.

  She butts in almost before I can answer my phone. ‘Tregunna?’

  ‘Yes?’

  Isabel has dropped me off and I am walking back home, passing the zoo, then under the railway bridge and through Trenance Gardens. The trees are yellow and auburn and an autumn smell hangs in the air. In front of me is a procession of two dozen young schoolchildren accompanied by a teacher and probably volunteer parents. One of the adults has started a song and the children are joining in.

  ‘Sorry, I can’t hear you,’ I shout back at Andrea Burke, trying to block out the singers as I press the phone to my ear.

  ‘I said: I have some interesting news for you. Sir.’ As usual, the last word comes out as an aftermath, sounding almost like an insult.

  ‘About?’

  The singing has finished, followed by a ripple of laughter and a young voice yelling out a suggestion for the next song. Someone else shouts in protest, but the singing starts up again.

  ‘Where are you?’ Burke asks, hesitating.

  ‘Within earshot of a group of school children.’

  ‘I can hear that, Tregunna.’ She can be curt and even rude sometimes, but one of her better habits is that she rarely loses her temper. ‘So you’re not at the station?’

  ‘No.’ I say, wondering why she called me. We have one of those relationships that cannot be described. She is neither a friend nor an enemy. She just seems to react either way however the mood suits her whenever we meet.

  Two songs down and the school children have had enough. The boating lake comes into view and their excitement increases. Young feet move faster and I slow down.

  ‘A little bird told me you were in the harbour early this morning.’

  ‘I was.’ As if on cue, a male blackbird with a yellow-orange beak appears from under a shrub and whips in front of me on the path, every so often stopping to peck at something invisible to the human eye, and to keep an eye on me.

  ‘So I gather you were enquiring about those body parts.’

  ‘Your little bird has been busy.’

  She makes a noise in the back of her throat that sounds like a combination of a chuckle and a giggle.

  ‘Right.’ She falls silent. I can almost hear her brain ticking over while she makes up her mind. ‘Do you want to hear this or shall I call Maloney?’

  ’Okay,’ I offer. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘It’s about those body parts.’

  I hesitate. As a human being I find the thought of the body parts horrifying and unnerving, but as a policeman I am intrigued. I almost envy Maloney for leading the case.

  ‘It’s not my case. I’m officially not even working.’

  'I know. But I thought you’d like to know.’

  ‘Hm.’

  ‘Just admit it, inspector.’ She giggles mischievously. I can hear someone in the background and I imagine that she is sharing a joke at my expense.

  The school children have reached the edge of the boating lake where you can hire a boat. A man in his fifties with a lopsided grin and one leg that is significantly shorter than the other, is limping to and fro trying to please everyone at the same time, handing out life jackets and instructing the adults how to adjust them, meanwhile keeping an eye on three boisterous boys who are already climbing into one of the boats. The outing might have seemed a good idea to the teacher at first, but now she seems to be finding it all very stressful keeping the children at bay.

  ‘Maloney is dealing with this case,’ I reply to Burke.

  ‘Yes. I know.’ There is a brief silence. ‘He is a prick.’ Clearly, she’s in one of her sulky moods. And she is certainly not in the mood for sharing her information with Maloney. Yet I can’t understand why she picked me instead.

  The shouts of the children are increasing.

  ‘Are you somewhere near a school?’

  ‘I’m more or less following a group of seven-year-olds who are going out on the boating lake.’

  ‘I didn’t know you had children.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘Oh. Okay. We ran DNA of the foot and the torso through the system. They’re the same body.’

  I can hear her rummaging through papers. Footsteps and a man’s voice in her vicinity.

  I wonder again why she called me. She isn’t a person who likes to speculate, nor disclose any information before she is certain of its accuracy from the many tests she runs.

  'I thought so.'

  Ignoring the hint of sarcasm in my voice, she continues, ‘Do you remember that we found a hand six weeks ago? In August? In the Camel River beside the Camel Trail near Padstow? Stuck in the mud?’

  'It wasn't my case, but I do remember.'

  She chuckles. ‘It was a man’s hand. Approximate age between 25 and 40. Nobody came forward missing a hand.'

  ‘Hardly to be expected.'

  She is silent for a moment, contemplating how to continue. 'Well, believe it or not, I had a flash of inspiration, if you like, and I’ve just compared the DNA results of the foot and the torso with the hand. A perfect match.'

  Whether on purpose or not, she has managed to silence me for a few seconds.

  ‘You mean the hand and the foot and torso belonged to the same body?'

  'That is exactly what I'm saying.'

  ‘Are you sure?’

  She laughs by way of reply. ‘Did that make your day, Tregunna?’

  She has a sense of humour that doesn’t exactly match mine. ‘Yes. Well, that’s incredible.’

  ‘Yes. Given the fact that the hand was found … let me check …’ Her voice is suddenly serious and professional, devoid of any mockery. ‘On the 4th August
… which makes it about six weeks ago.’

  12

  The sky is pink, turning the green hills across the River Gannel a dirty brown and where sheep can be seen grazing in the fields divided by old stone walls. I hear shouts of young children running alongside the lake, and two sets of teenagers in hired rowing boats, roaring with laughter as they attempt to have a race on the lake which becomes an uncontrolled circling in one spot, then ending up in a crash of bows.

  My landline rings. My mother. She rarely calls me on my mobile, unless she’s tried my landline first several times.

  ‘I’m sorry to call you at this time, Andy.’ She starts with an apology as though it’s too late for a social call. ‘But I …’

  She sounds upset and I interrupt her abruptly. ‘Are you okay, mum? Is everything all right with father?’

  ‘Well, yes. I suppose.’ She’s a bit taken aback by the sudden urgency in my voice, as if she never expected me to be worried about either of them. In her mind, parents worry about children, not the other way round.

  ‘Andy, listen … ‘ She tries again, slightly out of breath. ‘I can understand it if you don’t feel up to going to the hospital, but …’

  ‘The hospital? Why?’

  There is a pause. ‘Well, I don’t want you to feel sad or anything, with unhappy memories and all that.’

  ‘It doesn’t bother me, mother.’ She doesn’t know anything about my weekly visits to Becca in Treliske; I doubt if she’s even aware of her existence. Of course, she knows what happened but I never gave her any details – and she never asked.

  ‘Do you need me to drive you to the hospital, mother?’ I am wondering if she or my father, have an appointment with a consultant about some issue with their health, without letting me know about it, just as I didn’t tell them about the tumour in my bowel before I had my operation. The irony of this catches my breath when I stifle a nervous half-laugh.